"Gratitude" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
Gratitude in the Morning Light
This morning, as I opened the drapes, a soft golden light spilled into the room. The sun, gentle and curious, peeped through a veil of clouds, casting long, dappled shadows across the landscape outside my window. It was the kind of light that hushes the soul and stirs the heart awake. I paused and whispered aloud, “It’s a beautiful morning. Thank you.”
Gratitude often arrives in moments like these—not with fanfare, but with quiet grace. There are so many things to be thankful for, and when I allow myself to name them, they bloom in my heart like wildflowers: good health, the warmth of a cozy home, the simple ritual of morning coffee (especially that!), the love of friends who are like family, and family who are dear friends. These are the riches of life, and I count them gladly.
As steam rose from the mug in my hands, I felt the comfort of familiarity and the gift of a new beginning. It is a new day. It is my day. What am I going to do with it? That question holds within it both the freedom and the responsibility of being alive. To be present. To be kind. To notice the beauty. To be grateful.
I remember the wise words of Rev. Maureen, a beloved minister from years ago, whose voice still echoes in my heart. She used to say, “Live life with an attitude of gratitude.” It wasn’t just a catchphrase—it was a way of seeing. A way of being. Gratitude, she taught, wasn’t reserved for grand moments. It was found in the ordinary and the everyday—the slant of morning light, the quiet of a home before the world stirs, the warmth of hands wrapped around a mug.
And so I sit, looking out at the golden scene framed by my window, and I choose gratitude. Not because everything is perfect, but because so much is precious.
Thank you, morning light.
Thank you, coffee steam.
Thank you, Rev. Maureen.
Thank you, life.
~Wylddane
This morning, as I opened the drapes, a soft golden light spilled into the room. The sun, gentle and curious, peeped through a veil of clouds, casting long, dappled shadows across the landscape outside my window. It was the kind of light that hushes the soul and stirs the heart awake. I paused and whispered aloud, “It’s a beautiful morning. Thank you.”
Gratitude often arrives in moments like these—not with fanfare, but with quiet grace. There are so many things to be thankful for, and when I allow myself to name them, they bloom in my heart like wildflowers: good health, the warmth of a cozy home, the simple ritual of morning coffee (especially that!), the love of friends who are like family, and family who are dear friends. These are the riches of life, and I count them gladly.
As steam rose from the mug in my hands, I felt the comfort of familiarity and the gift of a new beginning. It is a new day. It is my day. What am I going to do with it? That question holds within it both the freedom and the responsibility of being alive. To be present. To be kind. To notice the beauty. To be grateful.
I remember the wise words of Rev. Maureen, a beloved minister from years ago, whose voice still echoes in my heart. She used to say, “Live life with an attitude of gratitude.” It wasn’t just a catchphrase—it was a way of seeing. A way of being. Gratitude, she taught, wasn’t reserved for grand moments. It was found in the ordinary and the everyday—the slant of morning light, the quiet of a home before the world stirs, the warmth of hands wrapped around a mug.
And so I sit, looking out at the golden scene framed by my window, and I choose gratitude. Not because everything is perfect, but because so much is precious.
Thank you, morning light.
Thank you, coffee steam.
Thank you, Rev. Maureen.
Thank you, life.
~Wylddane
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