𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝘆

I used to think “count your blessings” was Christian nice-speak for “stop whining.”

You know, the spiritual version of “eat your peas—there are kids starving in Africa.”

It felt like a participation trophy for people who couldn’t handle real life.

Then I actually tried it.

Like, on purpose. Out loud. With a pen.

And something ridiculous happened: I ran out of paper before I ran out of blessings.

Here’s what I’m learning (still learning, because I’m stubborn):

1. Counting your blessings isn’t denial—it’s defiance. The enemy wants you staring at the one thing you don’t have. Gratitude is you staring back at the 10,000 things you do and saying, “Nice try.”
2. Most of my blessings are wearing camouflage. That annoying client who pays late? Still pays. The kid who forgot to take out the trash again? Still has arms and legs and calls me Dad. The doctor’s waiting room that smells like bleach and old magazines? Means I’m still breathing and can pay the bill.
3. The math only works when I get painfully specific. “Thank you, God, for everything” is spiritual rounding error. “Thank you for the exact $47.18 that showed up in my Venmo right when the car repair bill hit” — now we’re cooking with gas.
4. I have never once regretted stopping to say thank you. Never. Not once. I’ve regretted a lot of things—words I said, tacos I ate at 11 p.m., fantasy football trades—but never gratitude.
5. Gratitude is the only attitude that turns scarcity into surplus without adding a single zero to the bank account. It’s the original multiplier of loaves and fishes.

A quick story from the book (you know the one):

• Remember the season I was convinced we were “one miracle away from broke”?
• I started a tiny Google Doc titled “Evidence He Still Loves Me.”
• Line 1 was literally “hot water this morning.”
• By day 47 the list was longer than my tax return.
• We never did get that one big miracle I was begging for.
• Turns out I was drowning in thousands of little ones and too proud to notice.

So here’s your assignment, because I never leave you without homework:

Grab your phone right now. Open Notes.
Set a 3-minute timer.

Write as many specific blessings as you can before it dings.

No cheating with vague stuff like “my health.” Write “the way my left knee only creaks on cold mornings instead of every step like last year.”

When the timer goes off, read the list out loud and finish this sentence:

“God, You didn’t have to ______, but You did.”
Then watch what happens to your heart.

Spoiler: it gets bigger and lighter at the same time. Weird Christian physics.

You’re richer than you think, brother/sister.
Start counting.

(And when you get to 50 and you’re crying in the carpool line, text me. I’ll add it to my list.)