Happy 2026. I'm sure you've been busy. I certainly have. Working, writing, planting, baking, reading, singing, playing, cleaning, stressing, living.
I'm giving you a metal warning today. If that's not your tea and jam, you can listen to the second video instead (it's softer and more on theme with the post).
(Not a Christmas song.)
I struggled with which song to use for this post: "Stygia" or "This Devastation". They are both tracks from the game Metal: Hellsinger. Imagine first-person-shooter Doom mixed with rhythmic Guitar Hero. Throw in demon-slaying, a metal soundtrack, and you've got a masterpiece. "Stygia" is my favorite track of the whole game with "This Devastation" being a close second. Both remind me of Evil Others. (I would say, "this reminds me of ISC," but that applies to too many things to keep track.) This game is up there on my list of all time favorite games and I've given it multiple playthroughs since its release.
Today's topic is gifts. Things, places, sounds, sights, animals, colors, smells, hobbies, memories, people. Things that when you see (smell, taste, hear, touch) them, immediately bring you joy. Things that are instantly sunshine to your soul, no matter how dark the rain clouds. The positives. The favorites. The blessings. The gifts.
I read a book about recording your gifts or blessings on a daily basis. It's like the Johnson Oatman Jr. hymn goes, "Count your many blessings, name them one by one." Count them. Name them. The things you are grateful for. The things you cherish. Your friends, your family, the big things (walking away from a car wreck unscathed), the little things (warm chocolate chip cookies), a hug, a smile, a story, a tear, everything. Every. Thing.
The thought is that if you take the time to write down this list of blessings, you will train yourself to look for more gifts to add to the list. You will start noticing the good. Seeing it, acknowledging it, documenting it. Not just today, but tomorrow, and the day after, and the week after, and the month after. Taking those moments to appreciate the gifts we've been given will in turn help us to be more grateful, appreciative, joyful, positive people. We can see the good. Better yet, we can become the good. It's either a simplistically silly notion or an obnoxiously bold one.
We are told, especially when times are darker it seems, to focus on the good. To think on them, to dwell on them. To become a people known by our love, our peace, our joy, our gratefulness, our gentleness, and our virtue. To be light. Easier said than done, no? To be light when someone you respect spurns you. When another dream or opportunity gets shot down. When all the knowledge and the experts in the world can't fix what is broken. When the setbacks have stacked beyond any recognition of progress. When you are written off in spite of the efforts you put in. When grief holds memory hostage. When survival's tunnel vision has blocked off aspiration. When all scenarios are no-win and the walls close in. Be light. Be grace. Be virtue. Be love.
I think we do try, for the most part. For some reason, it is far easier to dwell in the darkness at the bottom of the Mariana Trench than in the luminescence of the Aurora Borealis. Maybe we can blame gravity when the heavy things weigh us down. It seems a constant struggle to let go, to lift, to fly, to be light.
Today I wanted to show you some of things I'm grateful for. My favorites. My gifts. My blessings. Things I love. Things given to me by people who love me. Things I've given away to people I love. Things given to me by the One who loves me. For every good and perfect gift comes from above. I share these intentionally. Positive is not naive. Optimism is not blindness. This is a stand against darkenss. I don't know if it is the cure, but do I think it will help. I hope this list of blessings inspires you to start your own list. I hope it helps you remember to count your gifts. I hope you give them a name a spot on a piece of paper so you remember. I hope it helps you see the light. I hope it helps your candle glow grow a little brighter, friend. I hope it makes things better.
I wrote some letters over the last few months and realized recently they weren't all making it safely to their destinations. I overstuffed them to the point that their contents were lost in delivery, resulting in at least one friend only getting an empty envelope. Oops. Sorry. Trial and error is my least favorite way to learn, but it may teach me something yet. For anyone who might have only gotten an empty, half-shredded envelope (or nothing at all), I apologize. I'll do better at keeping the limitations of flat envelopes in mind.
Spring is upon us. We made it through the bitter cold of winter to face the dawning of a warmer sun. Don't get me wrong, winter is still my favorite season, but perhaps a good deal of that is due in part to nostalgia. It seemed a silly thing to me for so long when southerners complained about snow. Growing up, we had feet and feet of snow and ice for months. We carried on living as usual. The snow back then was magical. A white, powdery clay you could shape and form into anything your imagination desired, from woodland creatures to thick-walled castles.
The winters where I live now have a different magic. They have ice. Sharp, brittle, slick, and treacherous. This magic splinters tree, shatters rock, and snaps bone. No, the winters now are not as fun for me as they used to be, but we make do with what we are given. I'll still take sitting under a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate watching the icy rain drizzle outside over the summer heat.
Given enough time and warmth, even the ice melts. The ground, once frozen and unyielding, softens and absorbs the water. Rock becomes mud becomes swamp. The sharp, scentless, frozen air becomes saturated with the smells of dirt and grass and root and rain. So much rain. Rain to cleanse. To wash. To release. To refresh. It is already time for daffodils, strawberries, dandelions, morning glories, and evening primroses. Flower crowns, butterflies, bluejay feathers, cherries, and watermelons.
What does your list look like? What is the internal sunshine that helps you get through the ice and rain? Do you acknowledge it? Do you name it? Do you turn around and find gifts to give others? A word. A smile. A song. I don't think I'm much of a gift giver by nature, but I do appreciate the gifts I've been given. Sometimes I even remember who gave them. The vibrant bouquet. The worn hair clip. The kind note. The thoughful book. The practical knife block. The dried grass. The music and songs. The seashells. Let's make the world a little bit brighter together.
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