Grief and gratitude shouldn’t mix. At least, that’s what I used to think. But life has a way of surprising you, especially when you least expect it.

In the span of three weeks, I lost my grandmother, my husband lost his grandmother, and in the middle of it all, our four-year-old had an emergency appendectomy. (Because if life is going to hit you, it might as well make it a three-for-one deal.)

I had every reason to break down. And yet—there was joy.

Not the forced kind. Not the kind you slap on with a polite smile and a whispered “I’m fine.” But the kind of joy that bubbles up when everything is stripped away, and you realize you’re still held. The kind of joy that has you sitting in a hospital room at 12 a.m., staring at a beeping IV pump, and laughing because your kid just told the nurse to call him Luigi from Super Mario Brothers when she asked what he liked to be called.

The kind of joy that turns into something deeper—gratitude.

The Audacity of Gratitude in the Middle of Grief

I should have been drowning. Instead, I found myself lifted—by people, by little moments, by the undeniable presence of God. It was in the tight grip of my child’s little hand as he whispered, “Mom, I think I’m gonna be okay.” It was in the way my mom and I had a hysterical laughing fit the very day my grandma went home to Jesus—because as we were sobbing our eyes out, snuggled on the couch, the electric recliner somehow started going up on its own. (Apparently, grief comes with a side of haunted furniture. Not really—it was my mom’s butt. Hi, Mom, sorry I am writing about your butt!)

Somehow, in the midst of all the heartbreak, there were still these moments—unexpected, unfiltered, and undeniably full of grace. Moments that reminded me that even when life felt unbearably heavy, joy still had the audacity to show up. And when I finally slowed down enough to notice, I realized just how much of it had been there all along.

Here’s the thing: Gratitude isn’t a denial of sorrow. It’s not pretending the pain isn’t there. It’s standing in the rubble and whispering, “Even here, I will praise You.” It’s looking at a world that feels like it’s caving in and choosing to see the cracks where the light still gets through.

Gratitude is . . . looking at a world that feels like it’s caving in and choosing to see the cracks where the light still gets through. (Emily Hampton for Begin Within: A Gratitude Series)

The Artists of Heaven and the Gift of a Sunset

Somewhere in the middle of those hard weeks, I started thanking God for sunsets. Every single day. I have this theory—completely unverified, but let’s go with it—that God has a whole team of artists up there painting new skies for us daily. I imagine them discussing colors like, “Today, let’s make Kentucky look like it’s on fire—in a good way.”

And honestly, if God goes through all that effort to give us fresh beauty every night, the least I can do is look up.

Gratitude does that. It teaches you to look up. To see what you would have missed. To notice the daily art show that was there all along.

Gratitude Changes Everything

If grief taught me anything, it’s that gratitude is a defiant act of faith. It’s laughing through tears. It’s holding both loss and love in the same breath. It’s waking up and choosing to see what is still good.

If grief taught me anything, it’s that gratitude is a defiant act of faith. (Emily Hampton quote for Begin Within: A Gratitude Series)

And for me, it’s sunsets. And Luigi—AKA Dallas. It’s watching my children fall in love with Jesus. It’s feeling the grass under my feet on a warm day. It’s the sweet memories of time with my grandma—and the deep peace of knowing I’ll have endless time with her in Heaven. It’s realizing that aging isn’t a bad thing because, with every passing year, I’m actually getting closer to being in my prime—not here, but in Heaven. (And no, that’s not morbid. That’s just a solid investment plan.)

It’s the way my husband looks at me—like I’m a little crazy, but, you know, his kind of crazy. The kind he wouldn’t trade for anything. The kind he absolutely loves.

It’s being best friends with my sisters. It’s walking through grief with my loved ones and coming out on the other side closer than ever.

And, most of all, it’s the undeniable, unshakable love of a Savior who stepped into this broken world, took on our pain, and still finds ways to remind us: I am with you. I am for you. Even here, in this.

And so, every day, I will look up.

And I will be grateful.

Meet Emily Hampton

Meet Begin Within: A Gratitude Series feature writer, Emily Hampton, an author, storyteller, chaser of slow mornings, hunter of vintage treasures, and weaver of faith, hope, and humor.

Emily Hampton is the author of Grace Like Wildflowers: A 30-Day Devotional for a Flourishing Soul and the Barefoot in Heaven series. Her debut novel, Dancing Toward Forever, releases in the summer of 2025. A storyteller at heart, Emily weaves faith, hope, and humor into everything she writes, whether it’s devotionals, novels, or reflections on everyday life. When she’s not writing, you can find her chasing slow mornings with her boys, hunting for vintage treasures, or marveling at the way God paints the sky every evening.

Where to find her . . .

Begin Within: A Gratitude Series, hosted by Twyla Franz

Begin Within is a series to inspire a year-round lifestyle of gratitude that will impact not only your own life, but the lives of your neighbors as well. Gratitude is a theme we talk about often around here because it ties so closely into other missional living rhythms. Practicing gratitude reminds to keep our hearts soft and expectant and our eyes open. Therefore, the more we embrace gratitude, the easier it becomes to truly see our neighbors and where we can join what God is already doing in our neighborhoods.

If you would like to contribute to Begin Within, you can find the submission guidelines here.