Donald Miller's Blog, page 29

Five Articles I Sent My Staff This Week

As a staff, we are committed to learning and growing, both professionally and personally. One of the ways we do that is by reading. Below are some of the most current things we’re reading together.

If you’re in need of something great to read this weekend, start here.

Stop Wasting Time, Especially When it Comes to Social Media

via Entrepreneur

Honestly, I trust my staff completely when it comes to checking social media at work. They’re all hard workers and high performers. But I found this article interesting for all of us. We could all stand to waste less time, I’d imagine.

Why Your DNA Won’t Make You Rich

via Inc

Chances are you won’t find this article all that surprising. The good news is this: DNA doesn’t play nearly as big a role in success as good, old-fashioned hard work.

How to Handle Negative Feedback

via Harvard Business Review

This is solid advice, whether for responding to negative feedback we receive as a team; or for moments when we must give constructive feedback to an individual.

The Greatest Communication Secrets You’ve Never Heard Of

via Inc

These are great communication tips, whether communicating from stage, or communicating one-on-one with a friend or spouse. Our team already does a pretty good job of embodying this list.

Who Is Writing The Story of Your Life?

via Brian Clark

Since we as a team are always thinking about how to help people live better stories, this was a great take and fantastic collection of resources.

How to Increase Your Creative Productivity

I used to feel so much pressure to write something great every day. I felt like my life was a well and I had to draw water out of it every morning. The pressure was intense, and honestly, I often felt like I had nothing else to offer.

How do you draw water from an empty well?

But one night my friend Jon Foreman came through Portland, where I was living and the next morning we got together for breakfast. We ate at Mother’s Bistro and then shopped for cowboy boots at an western store down the street.

I don’t know of a single artist more prolific than Jon Foreman.

He’s the lead guy for Switchfoot, half the duo of Fiction Family, and still writes enough songs to fill a solo record every year.

His songs are amazing. I wondered how he did it.

When I asked him, he said something that changed my life.

He said, “Don, being creative is like being an archeologist. You just get up every morning and dig around in the dirt, looking for shards of pottery.”

That perspective certainly helped. Rather than the words being in me, the words were out there. The inspiration was out in the world, and all I had to do was go digging for it. All I had to do was brush away the dirt and sand and keep an eye out for anything that could be polished.

Since then, I’ve blogged regularly, continued putting together books, written curriculum for massive corporations and given conferences. I no longer feel like an empty well. I’m just an archeologist digging around for truths I hope will help people.

God put plenty of beauty in the world.

It’s the artist’s job to find something beautiful, dig it out of the clay and clean it up for presentation.

I certainly hope that helps you.

If you feel empty, just know there’s plenty of beauty and truth out there for you to find and present with your unique voice. Everybody polishes the pottery differently. Find it, clean it up and show it to the world and they’ll likely think you’re a genius.

What Your Comfortable Life Might Be Costing You

A few years ago, a friend of mine gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The proud parents gathered the family to welcome this newborn into the world. Tears were shed and joy overflowed. Years of doctor consultations, medicines, invetro and meetings with adoption agencies ended with the arrival of this precious package.

Photo Credit: Vanessa Porter, Creative Commons

While the new parents celebrated, my friend who just gave birth, sat in her room, alone, separate from the family, to contemplate what the last nine months had been about. 

She had been a surrogate, a womb for a family who needed one.

She reminded me of Mary.

A young girl, not aware of what the future would bring, offering herself as a vessel. She wasn’t asked for money. She wasn’t asked to work. She wasn’t asked to just show up. She was asked for her womb… space. Apiece of herself to hold the Divine. 

When the angel first approached her, she was troubled, not sure what was going to happen. 

And yet, when called upon, her answer was, “I am the Lord’s servant.”

Looking back at my friend’s sacrifice, I am more easily able to picture what it meant for Mary to carry a child that belonged to Another. Both could have said no, but didn’t. Both faced not only being shunned, mocked, outcast for being pregnant with a child that was not her husband’s, but also discomfort, pain, and possible death from the birth.

And yet in light of all of this, they offered space and belief. Belief that the life growing inside of them had the ability to change lives.

It is way too easy for me to settle for living in the womb.

By that I mean, I long for a life that is comfortable and safe, as opposed to the constant state of rebirth that often characterizes my life. The idea of seasonal living, full of constant flux and new starts used to sound romantic to me. Now, the idea of going through another change, another period of rebirth, just makes me tired.

When do I get to be wrapped in a snug warm place, protected from all that is the world? When do I get to be carried and sheltered? 

When do I get to have someone provide for me?

I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please—not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine. I don’t want enough of Him to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant. I want ecstasy, not transformation; I want the warmth of the womb, not a new birth. I want a pound of the eternal in a paper sack. I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.

– Wilbur Rees

I am reminded, by someone like my friend, who offered the most sacred space in her life for the sake of another, what happens when we make space for the Divine to do His work, when we invite Him in.

Lives are transformed. Joy comes, wrapped in a blanket.

I’ve been through my own birthing process and it is not fun. In fact, it is dirty and messy. Uncomforted is inevitable. My life is no longer just about me. And all too often, I choose to say, “I am not the Lord’s servant.” 

In doing so, I always miss out on being a part of changed lives.

I want transformation. I want new birth. I want more than $3 worth of God.

What do you want?

Should You Feel Guilty For Wanting Something Better?

About five years ago, I started feeling restless.

Photo Credit: Christopher Michel, Creative Commons

I had been out of grad school for almost two years and was working a full-time job that paid well. I lived in a great apartment with a dear friend and our co-existence was pleasant and easy. My family lived close by and I would often join my parents for dinner or meet my sister for coffee or pedicures or shopping.

I had everything I needed, and then some.

So I felt a searing guilt every time I allowed myself to admit the way I was really feeling— like there was something missing.

Each time the feeling came up, I would push it back down, reasoning with myself that people were desperate for jobs like mine, for cars like mine, for lives like mine.

Stop complaining and just be thankful, I would tell myself silently, which would help make it through a few more days or weeks before the feeling would come up again and the cycle would continue.

I never considered my discontent might be trying to tell me something.

I was talking to a friend the other day and she was telling me about how she’s been thinking of moving on from her “good enough” job for a long time. She’s been feeling underwhelmed about it, like it doesn’t challenge her the way she wishes it would, and like there is something better out there for her.

But before she could even finish saying the thought out loud, she started backpedaling.

“I shouldn’t complain,” she said. “I have a good job. People would die to have a job like mine. I really should just be thankful…”

All those things I found myself saying all those years ago.

What is it that makes us feel so guilty for wanting something better?

For me, as a Christian, there is always this pressing reminder I’m supposed to be “content in all circumstances” (Philippians 4:12) and a fear that my inability to do so reflects some sort of moral or spiritual failure.

If I just read my Bible more, or prayed more, or was more disciplined with my thought life, I wouldn’t have such a hard time being content.

Or at least that’s what I so often tell myself.

And so I drag myself through life, stomping out desire every time it tries to rear its ugly head. But the more I do that, the more numb I feel, and the more I question how on earth this could be the “abundant life” Jesus promised.

Is there any chance being “content” doesn’t look like we think it does?

The parable of The Rich Young Ruler is one passage we often site when talking about the danger of chasing after material possessions that can’t satisfy us. In the story a wealthy man comes to Jesus and asks, “What can I do to experience the Kingdom of Heaven?”

Jesus tells him, essentially, to go and sell all of his stuff.

My whole life I had read this story as a reason for being content with what I have—even if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted. But I hadn’t ever considered that, while no amount of physical possessions and money would satisfy me, this didn’t mean I should stop wanting anything, at all.

In fact not wanting anything cut me off from God, from myself and from my ability to make a difference in this world.

So, I decided to take desperate measures.

I quit my job, moved out of my apartment, sold all of my stuff, and spent the next few years of my life chasing what I wanted, going without the luxuries I used to enjoy. I chose to admit that, despite the luxuries and comforts of my life, it was not “good enough”.

Not even close.

It wasn’t until I finally started to admit I didn’t have what I really wanted that I began to understand what Paul really meant when he said: “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation.” (Philippians 4:12)

First of all, being content didn’t mean I never wanted anything. In fact, just the opposite. It meant admitting the fullness of my desire—the kind of desire physical possessions or status or accomplishments could never satisfy.
Second, I learned my physical stuff was connected to my spiritual and emotional life. We only have two hands, so we can’t hang on to very many things at once and having too many physical possessions was literally keeping me from enjoying the spiritual blessings I craved.
Third, I learned to pay close attention to the things I wanted, because they were always telling me something. As long as I was willing to ask myself why I wanted what I wanted, my wants were very useful. Our desires can act like a guiding light.
Finally, I learned that trying to be “content” by talking myself out of wanting things I wanted was a fruitless effort, like trying to get a beach ball to disappear by holding it under the surface of water. It works for awhile, but the minute you let go, or quit paying attention, it comes the surface with force.

When you look up “content” in the dictionary, the first definition reads, “desiring no more than what one has, satisfied.” But the second definition reads, “ready to accept or acquiesce, willing.”

And for me, this is a more helpful definition of what it looks like to be content in all of my circumstances.

It’s okay to not be satisfied with your current circumstances. It’s okay to not be happy with “good enough.” But if you’re going to live your life like this, be prepared to accept what comes to you, to acquiesce, and to give up things that won’t satisfy me, knowing there is one thing that will.

A Principle to Help You Stop Conflicts Before They Start

A stunning amount of conflict in our house was solved with one simple change. The idea comes from a simple command, maybe you remember it:

“Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.”

Photo Credit: Christopher Michel, Creative Commons

Most of us learned this famous quote in grade school. It was a dangerous and bold order from the Generals during the battle of Bunker Hill. The Continental Army had a problem. They were out-manned, out-trained, and out-resourced. They were terribly low on ammunition as the British charged forward to protect their hold on the colonies that made them rich.

The historic order meant they were to wait until their target was so close that they could not miss. 

If they missed, it would be hand-to-hand combat or certain death. It must have taken courageous patience to wait as the British advanced.

Here’s how our family uses that concept to help us avoid unnecessary conflict.

See, the five of us live in a fairly small house. No matter what room we are in, we are never that far from one another. Our voices can easily penetrate through the thin walls, but often the sounds don’t register. The other day, in our living room, I was reading a book and my son was doing his homework. 

From the kitchen, 12 feet away, my wife asked my son to walk our beagle, Scout. 

 

I am confident that the sound waves of my wife’s voice entered my son’s ears, but her words had no effect on his brain. He was concentrating on ordering and comparing integers. He did not respond to her request and he did not walk Scout. 

This created honest frustration on the part of my wife, who felt like my son was not listening to her.

In turn, I watched my son respond, defending himself in outline form.

He declared that:

1) she had not asked him to walk the dog,

2) that he was busy doing homework and not goofing off, and

3) he would have gladly ditched his homework to walk the dog if she had asked him.

As I watching them work through this low stakes conflict, I was impressed with the relational grace and persuasive skills each of them displayed. Yet the entire conflict was unnecessary. My wife never got my son’s attention and my son had not tuned his ears to hear his mother’s voice.

As conflicts go, this type of thing is minor. 

Yet, the cumulative impact of unnecessary conflicts can wear us down.

 

Talking to someone before you have their attention is the equivalent of firing your weapon when your target is out of range.

In our house we have established the “Same Room Principle.”

It is really simple. If you want to talk with someone, you need to be in the same room. That is, you need to get their attention before you share. 

Sometimes that means muting the TV or turning it off. It means we don’t shout from room to room, even when those rooms are small. It means I have to stop what I am doing, walk across the house, and engage my children. 

It means that communicating with people is more important than the stuff I am doing.  

 

I am amazed at how many conflicts can be avoided if we make eye contact and wait until we have someone’s attention before we talk.

Whenever my bride needs to talk with me about something really important, she naturally follows the Same Room Principle.

She tells me that she needs my attention. 

We find a quiet spot free of distractions and she looks directly into my eyes. By doing so, the opportunity for me to misunderstand what she is saying is diminished. 

The same concept applies to the simple things. 

 

There are enough substantive and thorny conflicts that challenge our relationships, why allow the unnecessary conflicts to complicate our lives?

Our friends and neighbors can testify that the Same Room Principle is more aspirational than habit in our home, but we are working on it and the effects have been stunning. 

When we follow the Same Room Principle, there is less conflict, fewer misunderstandings, and more peaceful interactions. 

 

Try it for a week and let me know the results. 

At home, at work, with friends, try not to talk to people until you are in the same room, have their attention, and see the whites of their eyes. 

What Happens When You Risk it All to Live by Faith?

I’m big on vision. I believe people are more healthy when they are heading somewhere.

One of the main questions I ask people is, “What do you want to do with your life?” If a person has a solid answer to that, I know they are more likely to be healthy. And if they don’t, I love to sit and dream with them about whatever it is that lights them up.

Often, there’s healing in the simple act of dreaming.

So recently, I began to ask myself that same question. What do I want to do with my life? And my answer was very clear. I wanted to build a home fit for a family, a tree-house office out back, and an upscale barn that could house coaching sessions for teams along with house concerts for artists.

I can see it in my mind. I know what my life will look like and I want to head in that direction.

But here’s the problem.

All of that costs money. Lots of money.

And here’s the other problem: I want to give the services away. What I mean is, I want the proceeds from the house concerts to go to the artists, and I want the coaching to be accessible to anybody, regardless of what they can afford.

So how do you build a life like this and yet give the services away?

My answer was quite predictable. I determined to raise the money first, then give it away when the life was already built.

In fact, I prayed and asked God to make it happen.

I was on a plane leaving South Dakota for Louisiana when I asked God, quite specifically, to provide the resources that would allow me to give away the services of Storyline.

About this time, my Chief of Staff, Tim Schurrer, was working on the new registration site for The Storyline Conference. We were talking about whether or not we should raise our prices. We currently had one of the most affordable Christian conferences around, and in my opinion, the no-frills best.

We focus on the meat: the guests, the real-life change.

Our conference was also very profitable. Every year, the number of attendees was growing. We had enormous momentum. We were well on our way to building the foundation, allowing us to begin giving the materials away.

But as I landed for my lay-over in Dallas, I heard God say something very specific

He said: Give it away now.

“What?” I questioned.

“Give it away now,” God said to me.

I knew instinctively what God meant. He meant: why wait till you have a foundation, until you have security to start giving your life away?

Give it away while you are in need.

So, I called Tim and told him we needed to make our conference available for whatever people could afford.

And so it is.

Storyline is breaking new ground. It’s a huge leap of faith for us, but we are going to obey God.

We are not naive. We know this will cost us a lot. But why in the world would we wait to have a tree house and barn to give something away when we can give it away right now and enjoy the benefit of being generous?

This year our annual Storyline Conference is taking place in Chicago November 5-7 and we’d like to invite you to come for what you can afford. Choose your price. Starting at $50. Pay what you want.

There are rewards for paying full price, but if you want to come, it’s wide open.

And we want you to come.

Can you imagine how great that first day is going to be?

There’s no better story than the one that travels through risk and adventure and trust and faith.

What would your life look like if you started living out of faith today?

What are you waiting for?

Five Articles I Sent My Staff This Week

As a staff, we are committed to learning and growing, both professionally and personally. One of the ways we do that is by reading. Below are some of the most current things we’re reading together.

If you’re in need of something great to read this weekend, start here.

Five Habits of People Who Always Get Promoted

via Inc

Especially as my team grows, I can’t help but agree with everything on this list. If you want to be invaluable to your team, give more than you take.

How Movies Teach Manhood

via TED Talks

This TED talk stood out to me in part because one of our team members just had a baby boy. But these are interesting thoughts for us all to consider.

Resonate: More Than Just Facts

via Nancy Duarte

This is an easy-to-read article that explains why simply presenting information isn’t enough to get people to truly hear you. Great thoughts for our team as we work, always, to communicate more clearly.

What Habits Are The Best for Creativity?

via Gretchen Rubin

When it comes to being productive in creative environments, there’s no magic formula, no one-size-fits-all solution. This means we must continue experimenting until we discover what works.

What Would You Pay for This Meal?

via New York Times

Fascinating: a restaurant where you decide what you want to pay based on how much you enjoyed the meal. Don’t you think we’d all design better products if pricing worked this way?

Thoughts on Creating Controversy as a Blogger

When I first started blogging, a friend told me: the internet is the wild west, and because it’s relatively new and ungoverned, there are no rules. Each person has to make up their own rules, and then stick to them.

Photo Credit: Marisa Vasquez, Creative Commons

I have a few rules, and chief among them is the one:

I’m a lover not a fighter.

I’m surprised how often people ask me to weigh in on this or that small scandal in faith-related happenings or the church world or Christian publishing, when this pastor says that thing about that other pastor, when so-and-so slams so-and-so on his blog, when this author writes negatively about that church or other author.

I’m not surprised that these questions are getting asked. In my most negative moments, I think that the internet is a lot like cable news: yelling and drawing lines in the sand, drumming up controversy for the sake of ratings.

There are a lot of bloggers who jump on every single slightly controversial aspect of Christian culture and church life.

The fact that people are asking these questions doesn’t surprise me—but the fact that they’re asking me does surprise me, because I never bite, and unless something unforeseeable and dramatic changes in the future, I never will.

This is my rule: I’m a lover, not a fighter.

Some people use their online voices and platforms to highlight the differences between us. Some people use their voices to police the highways and byways of world wide web—that’s wrong! That’s bad! That’s not what I think!

There are open letters and link ups, shout outs and name drops.

I don’t have anything against those bloggers.

But I’m not going to be one. I’d imagine they believe that’s how lasting change in our communities will get made, or that opening those conversations brings into the light some ways that our community needs to grow.

Maybe it does. I don’t know.

What I do know is that as far as the interwebs are concerned, I’m on the lookout for good—things that are beautiful and wise and helpful, things that connect us, books I think you should read, meals I think you could serve to the people you love.

You won’t find me taking shots at this or that public person ever, not because I don’t have strong opinions—I do, and anyone who knows me well knows that there’s no shortage of those strong opinions…but that’s the point:

I share those strong opinions in the context of relationship, because I think that’s the healthiest place for them to be.

And because I always think to myself, what if that person has a daughter?

In the last few years, I’ve been hurt by careless and unkind words about me & my books online. But way before all that, I was a pastor’s kid, and I heard people say terrible things about my parents and their friends, people who had given everything they had to do what they believed God was calling them to do.

Sometimes reporters were unkind. Sometimes authors and professors were unkind. But the pastors were the worst.

I burned through my willingness to argue the rights and wrongs about how to do church when I was about eleven. I got sick of pastors taking shots at one another publicly when I was about thirteen. These days I will physically get up from a table of pastors or bloggers or anyone at all when the conversation turns to other pastors or people in public life.

I had more than enough of that conversation before I could even drive.

And then the internet came along, and anyone with a laptop can insert themselves into a conversation that isn’t about them, where relationships aren’t present, and pretty soon we’re just all flinging uninformed opinions around the internet, name-calling and drawing lines in sand, hurtling arrows through cyberspace, telling ourselves that this is an important conversation.

But is it a conversation?

Or is it a really easy way to air opinions you never have to back up or explain about real people with real lives and feelings and families?

Again, I have no shortage of strong opinions on the topics of the day. But I don’t think that it helps anyone for me to scream them through the bullhorn that is the internet.

Around our table, we have all sorts of conversations and disagreements and differences of opinion. But we can hear each other’s voices, and we know one another’s stories. We can create a loving, kind framework to hold all the differing voices.

It’s near impossible to do that online. And so I’ve made it a policy that I don’t.

I read a book that enraged me last month.

I hated it, and I would love to blab all about it. But that author is a person. And a daughter. And a friend.

So I’ll use my voice to talk about the books that I do love, because there are so many of them.

There are pastors that make me bonkers. Plenty. Also politicians and musicians and writers. But again, I remind myself how it feels as a daughter or a wife or a friend when I’ve seen name of someone I love attached to someone else’s opinion about them on the internet.

I think about how my stomach has dropped when I’ve seen my own name on someone else’s blog, someone telling a story that isn’t theirs, to boost their traffic.

When I’ve regretted saying something on the internet, it’s never been about love.

I’ve never regretting loving or encouraging or celebrating something. I have often regretted slamming or dismissing or criticizing something, because when I do that online, it’s outside of relationship, outside of shared understanding, outside of context.

I know what generates loads of blog hits.

I know that controversy is currency. But I think it’s worth asking about who you’re taking down, in the hopes that your snark and wit will go viral. I think it’s worth asking about what happens over time to your insides when you decide to be a hater, when you decide to be the police of the internet, crusading for something or other.

There are enough haters. There always will be.

And right at the same time, there will always be enough beauty, enough hope, enough good, if we decide to be people who are always on the lookout for it. I want to use my voice to bring light and hope and beauty.

I want to search for what’s good, and shout about that.

When I get all wound up–when someone trashes someone I love and I want to get into the fight, when I disagree so vehemently that I want to use all caps to illustrate my point, when someone’s political views make me insane, I remember my rule, that I’ve committed to love, to being a voice for love and goodness.

I’m not telling you what to do, but this is what I’ve decided: when it comes to the internet, I’m a lover, not a fighter.

Why Your Anxiety is Probably Unwarranted

I used to have a phobia. Any time a warning light began to blink on the dashboard of my car, a low black cloud descended upon me and I began to sink into anxiety and depression.

Photo Credit: State Farm, Creative Commons

My mind filled with worst-case scenarios, emptying my bank account.

There was a time in my life (let’s just call it my Denial Decade) when I would put a piece of black tape over the blinking light so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.

The reason for all this anxiety was this:

I knew absolutely nothing about anything that resides under the hood of a car. (For years I thought a McPherson Strut was some kind of Irish dance.) Thus, whenever I took my car in for repairs, I had this look on my face that says to the mechanic,

“Take my money. Take all of my money. I’m stupid about cars and if you tell me my deliberator needs to be replaced, I’ll say, ‘OK.’”

Over the years, my problem with warning lights grew worse and worse.

It didn’t help when I went to a dealership last year and they told me it would cost about $1200 to get the blinking light to turn off.

That was the day I decided to get a second opinion.

At a friend’s recommendation, I went to Mickey at Bob’s Automotive.

It’s a little garage with two stalls a few miles from my house. It’s the kind of place that has out-of-date calendars on the wall, some car magazines on the counter, and a few old chairs in the waiting area.

A person could die of second hand smoke in a few minutes.

Sheepishly, I walked in and told Mickey that not one but two lights were on and it looked really bad. Then, out of habit, I gave him my wallet and my really nice watch. He gave them back, looked at me with kind eyes and said:

“I’ll take a look and call you in a little while.”

My blood pressure shot up.

An hour later Mickey called my office. “Mr. Andrews, your car is fixed,” he said. “A plastic trash bag blew up under your car and melted on a sensor, causing it to go a little crazy. I scraped it off and everything’s fine.”

“How much?” I asked as I sat down to prepare myself for the bad news.

“Oh, there’s no charge for that. Come on over and get it when you’re ready.”

I’ve taken my car to Mickey ever since.

My anxiety about blinking lights has ceased. In fact, the other day, a light went off. It was the engine light. And instead of panicking, I calmly drove to Bob’s and left them the car.

“No need to call me with an estimate. Just do the work and I’ll pick it up this afternoon.”

As soon as I said it, I realized something had changed. I wasn’t worried about money. I wasn’t worried about being cheated. I knew my car and I both were in good hands.

I wonder if that’s what happens when people treat us with integrity.

When we put ourselves around safe people, we realize no matter what happens, we’re going to be okay.

Something in us rests and breathes deeply, as we welcome kindness like parched ground welcomes a summer rain.

We’re all braced to be ripped off, to be treated poorly, to be used, trampled on, and judged. That’s the way it often goes in this world. But sometimes my cynicism needs a good slap in the face in order to wake me up to what is good and right and true.

Now and then a light shines brightly.

I hope you find a bright, shining light in your life today, even if it’s in an unlikely place.

A Simple Phrase That Can Make You Happier

As a parent, we try to teach our kids important life lessons from the day they enter our lives. We decide what lessons and character traits are the most important and we do our best to instill them.

For me, a heart of gratitude is a characteristic I hope and pray my children possess.

Photo Credit: Boudewijn Berends, Creative Commons

So daily I say to my four year old daughter:

Be grateful for what you have, not greedy for what you don’t have.

But sometimes in this world of bigger, better, faster, and stronger—where comparison has become the game of choice—having a heart of gratitude is an uphill battle (even for those of us who aren’t four years old).

And as a parent, I’m such a hypocrite.

I tell my daughter to be grateful and not greedy and then one second later find myself scrolling through Instagram wishing for more, better, faster and comparing my life to those around me.

I spend more time in my day thinking about what I do not have and what other’s do have than I do thanking God for the things right under my nose.

It amazes me how easy it is to teach and coach others on how to behave and respond to a situation, but how difficult it is to do it yourself.

Sometimes my four year old will come to me asking for something.

Let’s say it’s gum, because this happens multiple times a day. If my answer is “no” she immediately begins to tell me about how she never has gum and she’s never going to get gum again and all her friends get to have gum.

In the midst of her despair I stop her and say, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Now let’s think of three things we do have that we are grateful for.”

Her answers usually include rainbows and doughnuts, because who isn’t thankful for rainbows and doughnuts? And when we do this very simple thing—say out loud the things in life we are thankful for—she forgets about the gum.

The act of gratitude is simple, yet powerful.

This summer I’m pretty sure I am the only person who didn’t get to take a vacation.

I found myself on different social media platforms, looking at my friends’ photos at the lake or the beach or camping or on an airplane, headed to a far off land. I would look at these and in my heart I’d be saying, “But I never get to go anywhere, and I’m never going to get to go anywhere and everyone I know is going somewhere.”

My heart, void of gratitude.

And in these moments, which I ashamedly admit occurred multiple times this summer, I feel the Lord gently nudge me with his elbow,

“Heather, be grateful for what you have, not greedy for what you don’t have.”

And when I really stop to think about the things in my life I am grateful for, my attitude and the posture of my heart begin to change. Because no matter how mundane my life may feel, no matter how much I long to be doing the exciting things those around me are doing, I have at least one million things to be grateful for.

And so I begin to say them out loud, or write them down, as a way of giving them life and in so doing molding my heart into one of gratitude.

The power of a grateful heart, one that looks for what is, rather than for what is lacking, can change your day, your week, your summer, everything.

So I ask you, what is it your are grateful for today?