There is a sense of collective rejoicing and thankfulness in the neighborhood today during my breezy walk as schools here begin a new instructional year and the remaining months of 2026 venture onward. While the year is over halfway behind us, there is something about this time of transition that creates a pause. Somewhere in the middle of this pause, things get real. For some of us, this middle space comes with gratitude. We can point to moments of joy, growth, answered prayer, or unexpected grace. For others, this middle place comes with disappointment and quieter honesty. Not everything we hoped for has unfolded the way we imagined, thus we find ourselves somewhere in between those two places—holding both gratitude and grief in our hands.

As is a spiritual custom, the first Sunday in January (Epiphany), is STAR Sunday (following the Star of Bethlehem as the Wisemen did). Each year I am gifted a “Star” Word to guide my coming year, a simple word chosen for me to ponder, to notice, to hold in prayer, and return to as a reminder throughout my journey during the year ahead. My word gifted to me this year: thankfulness.

I have been sitting with the word thankfulness for months now, and I will be honest—I am still learning what it means. Being thankful is usually tied to specific moments whereas being grateful (a favorite personal word) represents a stronger, deeper, and lasting state of appreciation. At first, I thought thankfulness might point outward, but more and more, it feels like something growing inwardly, something similar to gratefulness. For example, I remain thankful for a medical team who acted swiftly during a medical procedure in March to save my life. I continue to be thankful for the act of physical healing while learning to care for my body in a more intentional way. Especially this year and with support from those who keep me grounded, this has meant paying attention to my rhythms of rest, nourishment, and building strength and balance in all areas of daily life. Healing is never instant or linear; it rarely looks the way we might expect it to look. Healing has meant learning to be thankful for the body I have now in this moment while learning to live in this body. Thankfully, I have absorbed that one of the greatest gifts others give to me is to encourage my feisty spirit more than evaluate my physical appearance. My body may not look a certain way, but thankfully it allows me to serve, laugh, hug, love, and live this beautiful life each day.

At times, this word thankfulness has felt clearly visible; at other times extremely confusing. Thankfulness tried to slip into the background of daily life but I intentionally keep it front and center. The truth is, thankfulness reminds me how there are stories being written in each of us all the time. There is still forgiveness to be offered, courage to be found, healing to unfold, JOY to surface, and grace to be shared.

Thankfully, no season lasts forever. We are not given the abundance of a full map for the journey but just enough for each step of each day. I may not be full of fresh intention and possibility but I am not at the end to look back and make sense of the whole story. I am living in the middle of my thankfulness, between the what was and what might be with just enough living to trust, to stay in motion, and to become—living in this glorious middle space where things are not fully resolved, but where faith, hope, and Love prevail while the soul celebrates in thankfulness.