This Means Home

There’s something about November that pulls us inward—with its soft gray skies, its crisp mornings, and the early drift of evening. As autumn fades and the page turns toward the holidays, I’m reminded of the power of noticing the little things—the moments that never make the highlight reels, yet quietly shape the days we live and the people we are.

This month, I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude—not just the kind that shows up in table prayers and annual traditions, but the kind that’s woven right into the middle of the mundane.

Not the grand.
Not the Instagram-worthy.
But the ordinary.

Sometimes gratitude is loud—sparkling with energy and joy. But more often, at least for me, it’s something quieter. It’s the slow exhale at the end of a long day, that one line in a book that stays with you, the familiar sound of laughter from the next room.

Here’s what I’m thankful for right now:

• The weight of my child’s head on my shoulder as the world turns soft and sleepy.
• The special memories created and the sounds of their laughter and the pure joy and excitement in their eyes.
• The fist pumpkin pie of the season- the one my children beg for.
• The cozy blanket my littlest and I wrap up in and watch cartoons.
• The ordinary days that, someday, I’ll wish I could go back and live all over again.

Gratitude, I’ve found, doesn’t always announce itself. More often, it whispers.

This November, I want to invite you—not to make a perfect gratitude list—but simply to notice.

To take stock of what’s quietly good in your life right now.

Maybe it’s the smell of coffee in the morning.
Maybe it’s knowing you’re doing your best.
Maybe it’s something as small as watching leaves dance in the wind from your living room window.

Whatever it is—just notice.

Write it down if you’d like. Speak it aloud. Whisper it into the pages of a journal or tap it into your phone on the way to school pickup. Gratitude doesn’t care how it shows up—it just asks that it does.

This month, I’m choosing to practice gratitude not as a task—but as a posture. A way of seeing the world. A way of remembering that simple doesn’t mean small, and ordinary doesn’t mean empty.

Maybe it’s enough just to say:
Thank you for this moment. Right here. Just as it is.