“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life – it turns what we have into enough and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.” — Melody Beattie

To be honest, gratefulness is not my default. It is not a muscle I exercise daily. Gratefulness grates on my nerves. It feels forced. It feels fake. An ill-timed platitude. An irritating sound. A noxious odor. So when my yoga studio sends out a November daily gratitude challenge, my first response is not a motivational mantra. My inner Thanksgiving scrooge recoils. I moan words with asterisks and exclamation marks.

A few years back, I remember guiding a local yoga class.  “From tabletop, let’s extend our right leg back, crossing to the left and settling your toes on the ground.  Gently turn and gaze at your beautiful foot.”

Someone in the back loudly harrumphed.  “My foot is hardly beautiful.” Something about bunions, bumps, etc. I made a mental note to replace beautiful with something more generic like “useful.”

Soon thereafter, veteran Dan Nevins taught a huge outdoor yoga class in downtown Omaha.  At a scenic park, we flowed and moved with hundreds of others. Walking amongst us, Nevins instructed us to forward fold, grab onto our feet and spend a few minutes being grateful for our feet.  I smiled and remembered my disgruntled foot student and how she would enjoy this story.

Coming from Dan Nevins, this was an especially poignant meditation.  You see, the thing is, Dan Nevins is a yoga instructor who has no feet. Injured by an IED in Iraq, both of Dan’s legs were eventually amputated below the knee. Silver prosthetic legs helped him navigate the park.

How many times I had taken my feet for granted, never even thought, let alone be grateful for my feet. Mindfully, I rubbed my warm and useful and beautiful feet, the graceful arch, the wrinkled small toenail, the chipped nail polish. Imperfectly perfect, able and grounded.

This Thanksgiving morning, I force my hand at my gratitude list, filling in day after day of overdue exercises.  My favorite season, my favorite spice, my favorite teacher.  As the pen flows, I realize what I have learned in the past and will continue to learn. For me, gratitude is sometimes forced, even painful.

But somehow magically, even the tiniest bit of gratitude multiplies and overflows.  It warms sore muscles and disgruntled minds. As Melody Beattie says in the opening quote, gratitude “unlocks the fullness of life.”