“Jesus asked, ‘Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the

other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to

God except this foreigner?’”

 

Luke 17:15-17

 

Like mist, our sense of 

thanks can drift away. 

We lose perspective. 

We forget we are blessed. 

 

We allow ourselves to be 

trampled by the ever 

ongoing rush of living. 

 

We become consumed 

rather than consumers. 

Or we ever-dance to detail.

 

Bounty unrealized,

Unnoticed in the flood. 

 

Gratitude for life, for the 

opportunity of choice. 

 

Gratitude for love, for moments to love.

​

Gratitude for times past, 

gratitude for simple things,

basic things, for fire, 

food, friends. 

 

For touch, sight, hearing, 

for passion to care. For 

grief that springs from love. 

 

Oh, Holy Spirit, we squander 

away the hours, often dulled, 

unaware of the festival of light, 

the ocean waters in 

which we swim. 

 

To be released is what we 

yearn for. To be freed is 

gratitude’s invitation 

to the dance. 

 

Make us draw deeply 

from the well of what 

this world offers. 

 

Gratitude waits for when 

the thank-you grows silent. 

When words depart. 

 

It alights when we are filled 

with amazement, toppled 

by the unexpected, 

​

caught up in the wild 

ceilidh of life and of living. 

 

Gratitude lives in the bones. 

Gratitude is the singer of songs but can never 

be the song. 

 

Gratitude is 

second-cousin 

to Mystery. 

​

​Gratitude waits 

for the dog 

to finally

 

howl 

at the 

moon.