And yet, we are often disappointed, even on Easter, even when we are offered the promise of eternal life and salvation. We look at prayers unanswered (at least according to our standards) and a world breaking under the strain of division and human suffering, and we struggle to find joy, even when our faith tells us not to be afraid, that nothing on this earth, no matter how awful, can keep us away from what God has promised.

Wherever you find yourself today, whatever your problems and struggles, there is reason to rejoice. Jesus is not dead; he is alive. The cross was not a defeat for him, and it will not be a defeat for us. We do not always understand Jesus’ ways, and like those early disciples, we may stare at the empty tomb — or at some challenge in our own life or the larger world — and wonder, “How can this be?” But Jesus doesn’t ask us to understand; he asks us to trust that things are unfolding just as he told us they would.

If you are struggling to find Easter joy this season, imagine you are Mary Magdalene, bereft after finding the tomb empty. Upon encountering a man whom she does not recognize at first, she is called by name and realizes she is speaking to the resurrected Jesus. He tells her not to be afraid and to go and preach the good news of his resurrection to the other disciples. Her fear disappears in that moment, and she boldly proclaims: “I have seen the Lord.” We, too, are called by name.

In his beautiful book, “Life of the Beloved,” theologian Henri J.M. Nouwen writes, “What I most want to say is that when the totality of our daily lives is lived ‘from above,’ that is, as the Beloved sent into the world, then everyone we meet and everything that happens to us becomes a unique opportunity to choose for the life that cannot be conquered by death. Thus, both joy and suffering become part of the way to our spiritual fulfillment.”

Our lives will always be a mixture of both dark and light, happiness and sadness, but always hope, and possibly even joy in the face of struggle, if we follow Mary Magdalene’s example of complete trust.

As you move through this Easter season, pay attention to physical signs and symbols around you at Mass — the Paschal candle flickering, the powerful fragrance of lilies in bloom, the music bursting with Alleluias, the holy water cool against your skin, a shower of blessings in the most literal sense. It’s beautiful how we use physical things to help us bridge the distance to God, as though we are so hungry to get closer, we pull out all the stops. If only we could keep that fire of love going year-round. The Church gives us a running start by offering us the beautiful 50-day season of Easter. Soak it up. Let it feed your soul and animate the inner joy that is your spiritual birthright. After all, he is risen. Run and tell the others!

This column originally appeared in the April 9, 2025, issue of The Evangelist.

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The road to Calvary over these 40 days will be marked by confusion and concern, sadness, and, yes, even moments of joy; not the passing happiness we think of when we hear that word but deep-seated internal joy, the kind that lives in our heart when we put our trust in Jesus. The stories that mark the path from here until Easter are powerful and familiar, sometimes so familiar they fail to move us, or, more accurately, we fail to be moved. We’ve heard it all before. There’s nothing new here. But God makes all things new, and the Scriptures are alive with the Spirit, who blows through the ancient texts to make a word, a phrase, a scene jump out at the exact moment we need it, if only we’d settle down and listen, as St. Benedict taught, with the “ear of our heart.”

We need reminders, someone or something to point out what we’re missing. Lent is that reminder, affording us the time and space to go deeper, to sit with stories and let them speak to us as if for the first time. What is calling you to transformation? What speaks to your heart?

On that Sunday morning in church years ago, an old man sat in the pew in front of the precocious little boy. Hunched with age, he was held up on one side by a younger man, his son, perhaps. The older man was dressed in a beautiful suit, his Sunday best. He stood for every prayer, even though he struggled to make even the slightest move, and his son patiently helped him up and down. It was a beautiful moment, this juxtaposition of young and old, boundless curiosity and fading youth, but with faith and grace swirling around both, around all. Taking in the scene that morning, I was moved by the reality of so many people from so many places with so many stories, all hungry for one thing: an encounter with the Divine. The same could be said of our Lenten journey.

We walk this journey together, even if we think we are walking alone. Faith and grace binds us to each other and to our God, and that is the stuff of which pure joy is made. Begin down the path today, and, if you get sidetracked, dust yourself off and begin again, knowing that you have companions, seen and unseen, lifting you up, a Communion of Saints, in which we all get to stake our claim. Stop, look, listen. Joy is hiding in plain sight, even on the road to Calvary, even on the cross, because joy is not fleeting, joy is not a feeling, joy is the knowledge that we have been saved by Jesus Christ, who invites us to join him on The Way today, every day.

This column appeared in the Feb. 15, 2024, issue of The Evangelist.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

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One recent day, as I walked my rescue pup, Jake, under a clear blue autumn sky with colors bursting from the trees around me, I felt a swell of joy rise up in my chest, and immediately I said to myself, “I shouldn’t be happy.” Because how could I be happy when I was watching the terror attacks and larger-scale war unfolding in Israel and Gaza.

But in doing that — in refusing to feel joy and hope in the face of a broken world — what happened instead was that fear and anger rushed in to fill the void. Not just fear and anger associated with the larger world and those who rain suffering down on innocent families and concert goers and children indiscriminately, but fear and anger over even the little things in my own life, the “first-world problems” we so often joke about. Choosing not to feel joy in the moment because of suffering somewhere else does not ease the suffering of others, it only adds to the suffering in my little slice of the world, and that doesn’t help anyone.

“Today, if we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other — that man, that woman, that child is my brother or my sister. If everyone could see the image of God in his neighbor, do you think we would still need tanks and generals?”, St. Teresa of Calcutta once famously said. “Peace and war begin at home. If we truly want peace in the world, let us begin by loving one another in our own families. If we want to spread joy, we need for every family to have joy.”

And sometimes that’s the hardest thing to do, isn’t it? It’s easy to pray for peace and send love to those who are suffering half a world away, those whom we will never meet in person. It’s much harder to want those things for the people we know intimately who have hurt us — the neighbor who mistreats us, the friend or loved one who betrays us. We sometimes even turn that hatred and hardness of heart in on ourselves when we make mistakes or disappoint those we love. When we do that, we put our own little piece of “violence” out into the world, and everyone else is a little worse off. Just as love ripples outward from us, so does hate or despair, if that is what we choose.

So where to begin? How can we peaceful and joyful in the face of the horrific things we see unfolding in our fragile world around the globe? Only through Jesus Christ, who showed us with his own body what it means to love and hope in the spite of hatred and injustice, who told us: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27)

As you move through the remainder of this beautiful autumn season, take the time to pause, breathe deep, and revel in the beauty and wonder that is yours in the moment. Feel the peace that can reside in you when you let go of the fear; feel the joy that bubbles up when you allow yourself to trust God’s words rather than trusting the rage you see on your screens.

Peace is an inside job. Joy is not happiness as the world knows it but a contentment that rests in God. Both of those things are your birthright, no matter what the world tries to tell you.

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But this person’s question made me take a closer look at the topic, and I promised I would ponder it and maybe even write about it. So here we are. What I said off the top of my head that Wednesday evening was that I think we hear “happy” with our secularized ears and what we really mean is “joyful.” But does “Have a joyful Lent” ring any truer in a season where sacrifice and the road to Calvary are in view?

I would offer a resounding YES! And here’s why. Look at some of the readings of this season so far. On Ash Wednesday, in the first reading from the Book of Joel, we were urged: “Return to me with your whole heart … return to the Lord, your God. For gracious and merciful is he, and slow to anger, rich in kindness, and relenting in punishment.” What could be more joyful than a God like that? So often we focus on what is wrong with us and how unworthy we think we are, but God reminds us that we are beloved exactly as we are right now. And that should make us both happy and joyful, no matter what the season.

Last week, one of the Gospel acclamations, quoted Psalm 51, saying: “A clean heart create for me, O God; give me back the joy of your salvation.” I used this exact line of Scripture as a breath prayer for my retreat group precisely because of the words “the joy of your salvation.” I wanted to remind people that ours is a faith of joy, even on the road to Calvary, because we know what lies beyond it.

Famed Trappist monk Thomas Merton, in his book “Seasons of Celebration: Meditations on the Cycle of the Liturgical Feasts,” wrote: “Even the darkest moments of the liturgy are filled with joy, and Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten fast, is a day of happiness, a Christian feast. It cannot be otherwise, as it forms part of the great Easter cycle.”

He goes on to say, “There is joy in the salutary fasting and abstinence of the Christian who eats and drinks less in order that his mind may be more clear and receptive to receive the sacred nourishment of God’s word, which the whole Church announces and meditates upon in each day’s liturgy throughout Lent.”

Notice the word he uses there: joy. For many of us, the word “happy” is where we get hung up, because happy in our secular world’s view is about those surface feelings we get when we go on vacation or get a promotion or eat a good meal. There is a big difference between happy and joyful, and we are called to be joyful in our faith, not just when things are going according to plan but even when they feel terribly off course, maybe especially in that case. No easy task, to be sure.

Even if you’re not comfortable wishing your neighbor at church a “happy” Lent, can you spend some time thinking about where the joy lives in this season?  When we discover the joy bubbling up amid the sacrifices we’re making, like a purple crocus pushing up from beneath the snow in our yard, we begin to realize that there is far more to this season than what we see on the surface.

Happy, joyful, blessed Lent!

Mary DeTurris Poust will be offering a Lenten retreat at St. Patrick’s Church in Ravena on Saturday, March 11, at 10 a.m. and via Zoom on Wednesday, March 15, at 7 p.m. For more information, visit: https://notstrictlyspiritual.com/events.

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

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You know that February feeling… The holidays are behind us, and spring is SO far away (at least here in the northeast). We just need a little something to get us through. Well, here’s it is — a weekend away to focus on joy, love, community, and prayer at the comfortable, cozy, and caring Dominican Retreat and Conference Center in Niskayuna, New York. This retreat will be offered in person and via Zoom and will include several conferences (by yours truly), morning and evening prayer as well as other worship services, an opportunity for private consultation/companioning with me or any of the staff, and plenty of free time for rest, quiet, reflection, inner healing, growth, prayer, and sharing. In addition, this retreat will include an option for collage-as-prayer, a beautiful and creative way to explore your relationship with God through images and words on paper. (I provide all the supplies, although you can bring along some favorite old magazines if you’d like.) This women’s weekend is open to people of all faiths and all ages (18 and older). The building is wheelchair accessible with private bedrooms. Meals, snacks, and linens are provided. Special diets can be accommodated.

The fee for the weekend is $225.00; $210, ages 65 & over; $90.00 for virtual retreat. Register HERE.

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But there’s been a side benefit that has proven to be even more joy-inspiring than the work aspect of home office life: time with my teenage daughter. I knew when I quit my job to change career paths that I’d have a little more time with Chiara, who has only one more year at home before she heads off to college, but I underestimated the impact of those afternoon hours together that I’d been missing for the past six years.

When I decided to go back to work in an office full time in 2015, I figured I’d gotten my three children through the most important parts. Chiara, our youngest, was in fifth grade and had an amazing neighbor to care for her in the afternoons. Eventually, Olivia was old enough to watch her after school. The tough part was done, right? We imagine our pre-teens and teens are fairly self-sufficient and that they prefer time alone to time with parents. But what I’m finding is that I’m not the only one basking in our mother-daughter time; Chiara and I spend many afternoons side by side, whether we are running errands or quietly doing work on our computers, separate-but-together.

As I wait in the car line outside the high school each day, I am grateful for the opportunity to be there to pick her up and hear about the happenings of her day. It’s an added bonus when a friend needs a ride home, giving me the chance to get to know some children who were faceless names up until now. Every day when I arrive at school, I text: “I’m here in my usual spot.” One day the text came back: “See you soon. Bestie 4 L,” which translates in grown-up talk as “best friend for life.” Be still my heart.

At home, as I work in my upstairs office, Chiara often plops herself down on the meditation cushion behind my desk chair — usually with our black cat, Fred, in tow — and hangs out there, both of us doing our thing and stopping to chat now and then. She has no idea how happy it makes me, but I feel joy bubbling up inside, and I say a silent, “thank you,” for the gift of this time together that I really never saw coming.

It has made me aware of the many other things I’d been missing when I was moving at the warp speed of a stressful job that occupied my mind 24/7, which is no exaggeration despite the overused cliché. So many daily joys were buried under never-ending work emails and texts. So many fleeting opportunities had passed me by while I was convincing myself that a job should be more important than the everyday miracles occurring all around me, often unseen because my eyes were glued to a computer or phone.

Don’t get me wrong. My decision to work for myself was a huge sacrifice for my family and one that I know many people cannot make because of the financial implications, so I am blessed. And although my choice certainly comes with daily challenges as I try to rebuild a business, the trade-off — less money and “prestige” for more joy and contentment — is one I would make again in a heartbeat.

What treasure is hidden in plain sight in your life? Stop for a moment today and bask in the simple things that fill your heart with joy. Step away from the computer, put down the phone, lift your gaze, and take it all in.

This column originally appeared in the June 2, 2022, issue of The Evangelist.

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Although there were times throughout the book when I talked back to the narrator, disagreeing with this or that, I was surprised to see how much of it resonated with me and how much had changed since 2016 when I referred to myself (and others like me) as “darkness-dwellers” who drain the life out of everything, like the soul-sucking “dementors” from the Harry Potter series. That was some serious darkness. It’s not hard for me to tap into where I was, but to be honest, that definition of myself feels somewhat foreign — and more than a little sad and frightening.

When I found the column, I found something else: a long comment left by Jack, a complete stranger who had the guts to disagree with me and remind me that “the stuff about ‘darkness-dwellers’ and being soul/energy sucking vampires has nothing do with God or the Divine, but with ‘something else’ that is not so nice.”

“It is a choice of happiness, of going down the spiritual path where the roadside is littered with baggage, garbage, and tears…and to keep moving forward to God’s Love and Light,” he wrote. I smiled as I read those words six years later and marveled at where I am now and how far away that unhappy place seems.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still not all sunshine and roses every day, but there is a difference. The darkness which arrives on my doorstep — as it does for each one of us in different measures — does not cling to me anymore, at least not for long. The light is always there, edging its way in and reminding me that, while I may not be happy all the time, I can know joy in my heart no matter what.

Happiness and joy are two different things. We say we want to be happy, but what we really want is a pervading joy that stays with us, even when times are downright disastrous. Will we be happy in those painful moments? Probably not, no matter how far down the spiritual path we have gone. But can we know the abiding joy that lives within us because we are called, chosen, saved, and beloved by God? Yes.

What changed for me over the past few years that could transform a darkness dweller into a joy seeker? A lot. No one thing made all the difference, but I can look at the choices I made that allowed me to loosen my own vise grip on my heart so that it could open enough to let God do what God wanted to do for and with me.

My path has included talk therapy, medication (which changed and possibly saved my life), meditation and yoga, regular retreats, a daily gratitude practice (which also changed and possibly saved my life as much as anti-depressants), and a growing wisdom that has come with the last third of life and has made me realize how precious every day is. We do not have time to waste. We know not the day nor the hour.

If you are in darkness, if you feel like you cannot “choose” happiness, reach out to those who can guide you out of that place. You deserve joy. You deserve light. You are called, chosen, saved, and beloved. Own it. Live it.

This column originally appeared in the May 5, 2022, editions of Catholic New York and The Evangelist.

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I’m guessing what many of us are feeling these days runs somewhat parallel to what the early disciples were feeling in the days after Jesus’ crucifixion and even after resurrection, when enemies were lurking around every corner, and believers locked themselves away, afraid that they might meet a similar end on a cross. The joy of the resurrection was tinged with the fear of “What if…” What if I’m next? What if the voices of fear are right? What if I’m not brave enough?

The reality is that none of us will get through this life on a wave of joy. Pain works its way into our lives again and again, often when we least expect it. How many of us had big events on the horizon as the coronavirus hit — weddings and graduations, anniversary trips and study abroad, new homes and new babies? Suddenly those lifetime highlights were plunged into shadowy uncertainty. To be sure, the babies would arrive just the same and the graduations would happen sans pomp and circumstance, but none of it was as planned or expected.

The crux of all of this is not that there is pain, but what do we do with the pain. Even as I write this column—pain-free compared to the many who are suffering—I feel myself sinking and there is a certain comfort there. To feel sorry for myself, to allow myself to follow the paths of doom my mind creates, has a certain attraction. It gives me an excuse to wallow, to skip the walk or prayer time, to eat comfort food that’s not good for me, to scroll mindlessly through social media. Because, poor me, poor us.

In his book “Man’s Search for Meaning,” Viktor Frankl, writing about the loss and trauma inflicted on him in the concentration camp, said: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

It is a reminder that there is power in the way we choose to respond to the pains — and the joys — that come into our lives. If we are swept away with every happiness or plunged into the depths with every sorrow, then we will live a life of seesawing suffering and bliss. As a result, we will never know true joy, because true joy lies in being with whatever is in front of us at the moment and staying true to our center. That doesn’t mean we don’t hurt or get afraid or miss people or want to hide ourselves away and eat Doritos and watch mindless TV every once in a while when things get bad. What it does mean is that we don’t stay there long.

If we make sure we retreat to prayer every single day without fail, even for just a few minutes, we can stop the seesawing. What if we turned to God every time we turned to our phone or to that unhealthy snack? What if we allowed God to fill the void? I’m going to take my own advice, and I hope you’ll join me. I have a feeling if we both stick with this plan, the fear will dissipate even if the pain does not. Choose joy.

This column originally appeared in the April 22, 2020, issue of Catholic New York.

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My hands look older than my mother’s hands ever did. That’s what I was thinking at Mass last Sunday when I should have been focused on more spiritual pursuits. But I couldn’t get past the sudden, albeit not surprising, realization that I am aging far beyond anything my mother experienced in her 47 years. Thanks to a couple of small-but-disturbing age spots and prominent veins, my hands remind me that life is moving at breakneck speed and I might want to take stock of things.

I don’t think the timing of my observation is coincidental. Although I’m not one to make annual resolutions, I do have a penchant for long, somewhat depressing strolls down memory lane at this time of year, meandering mentally through all the things I have not yet done, or didn’t do so well. For the people (like myself) who dwell in darkness, God’s great light only seems to penetrate so far.

We darkness-dwellers can be suffocating to those lucky enough to live in the light. We seem to drain the life out of everything, like the soul-sucking Dementors of “Harry Potter” fame, but the truth is that this is how God made us. “Happiness is a choice,” I read on Facebook and Pinterest with some regularity. Baloney. While some people are hardwired for joy, others are not. For us happiness is a constant longing, a place that is always 10 steps ahead of us. “Choosing” happiness doesn’t change who we are at our core any more than choosing warm sunshine will change a gray January day in upstate New York into the tropics.

This reality was driven home for me this past year when I watched from a distance as my dearest childhood friend battled breast cancer. Never during that year did she seem angry or hopeless, dark or desperate. Her game face was always one of optimism and opportunity, great expectations and living in the moment. I’m sure she had to work hard to stay in that place, but she began from a baseline of happiness; she is a remarkably upbeat person.

When she was declared cancer-free last month, I sent her a note telling her how glad I was and at the same time how sorry, because in the midst of her crisis I had been consumed with worries far less significant than cancer, so much so that although I prayed and prayed for her good health, I never did see my way clear to make the drive to see her, or do much of anything else in terms of support.

My aging hands brought all of this to the fore. As I looked at skin that is changing from vibrant and glowing to translucent and lined, I wondered if I would see similar interior changes if I were able to peer into my own soul. Had my ability to bounce back from a sad place lost some of its elasticity, just as skin does as it ages? Had my cynical-but-hopeful foundation begun to crack?

I’d like to think our soul doesn’t work that way. That maybe as our exterior self ages, our interior self soaks up all the vitality. I always assumed age would bring interior peace. Like happiness, that isn’t a matter of making a simple decision, like choosing a pair of shoes. Lasting peace and happiness require difficult interior work and critical exterior support for some of us. And sometimes despite our best—and prayerful—efforts, those much-desired things stay slightly out of reach.

Moving from darkness to light, sadness to joy is not a matter of choosing to be something other than who God created us to be but rather of refusing to buy into the “happiness-is-a-choice” myth and accepting our own truth, even if it comes only in a shade of blue.

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Gratitude has that kind of power, not just in prayer, but in the most ordinary moments of our lives. When we are thankful, grateful and appreciative of what we have — even the things that don’t necessarily warrant a special thank-you prayer — we tend to be more generous, loving, patient and kind toward others. 

Gratitude shifts our focus away from our own complaints and problems. If we are busy noticing the blessings in our lives — even something as simple as a beautiful sunrise coming up over the highway as we drive to work, or our family gathered around the dinner table after a long day — we are less likely to wallow in self-pity.

But that doesn’t mean developing an attitude of gratitude is easy. It requires action and determination to look for those moments of grace, even when they are hidden among the thorns of disappointment.

“To be grateful is a characteristic of humility, and that in itself opens the heart to grace, opens the heart to others, and allows you not to put yourself at the center of the conversation but others,” said Father Francis Hoffman, JCD, executive director of Relevant Radio, who is known as Father Rocky. “Gratitude naturally takes us away from ourselves and opens us to others and to God, and that always brings joy with it.”

Be intentional

Those who count their blessings in concrete ways — written in gratitude journals or on slips of paper collected in a gratitude jar or box, even on Facebook for all the world to see — do seem to give off a sense of joy, one that ripples outward, as if every blessing they name is a pebble tossed into our collective consciousness.

“I like that idea, writing down a list of things that you should be grateful for. I encourage people to begin with the things that you take for granted,” Father Rocky told Our Sunday Visitor, suggesting people start with simple blessings, such as being able to walk and talk, or having a warm home and running water, because too often we’re “out of touch” with the reality that many people in our world don’t have the most basic things.

A gratitude practice can be as simple as opening up a cheap spiral notebook and jotting down, on a daily basis, the things that bring a smile to your face, from the ridiculous (your cat batting a crumpled piece of paper around the house) to the sublime (a good diagnosis from the doctor).

Even the smallest nods toward gratitude remind us that the goodness we experience comes from somewhere outside ourselves, from “a benevolent source of life,” said Bishop Edward Scharfenberger of the Diocese of Albany, New York.

“It stimulates the hope that we are not alone, isolated or abandoned,” Bishop Scharfenberger told OSV. “At the same time, gratitude is a response that makes a demand on our own creativity. It challenges us to become more than what we are and, therefore, to grow out of any vicious cycle or stagnant state — such as worry, fear, helplessness or even victimization. It is both a gift and a call.”

Robert Emmons, a professor of psychology at the University of California Davis, conducted a scientific study that demonstrated how actively being grateful can positively affect both physical and emotional health.

According to his study results, participants who kept weekly gratitude journals “exercised more regularly, reported fewer physical symptoms, felt better about their lives as a whole, and were more optimistic about the upcoming weeks compared to those who recorded hassles or neutral life events.” He also found that those who kept gratitude journals were more likely to accomplish personal goals and to help others in need of support or assistance.

Elizabeth Figueroa, a clinical social worker based in Georgia, told OSV that humans are wired for connection, and gratitude is “a lens through which we can notice ordinary places of connection in our day-to-day lives.”

By practicing gratitude, we train ourselves to pay attention to small moments of grace found amid the mundane moments of life.

Figueroa said that gratitude is appealing because it’s universal.

“The practice of cultivating awareness is central to spiritual and psychological worldviews alike,” she said. “Over the past few decades, the field of psychology has become more open to spirituality, and popular spirituality has drawn upon the gifts of psychology.

“Gratitude, it seems, is a practice in which spirituality and psychology have found common ground,” Figueroa added. “Science is finally confirming a truth that spiritual people have known for centuries: cultivating gratitude makes us happier, less isolated and more connected to ourselves, to others and to God.”

Be prayerful

Father Rocky recommends people use vocal prayers, such as the Angelus, grace before meals and prayers of thanksgiving after Communion, as well as mental prayer to focus their gratitude, expressing thanks for everything from grace and mercy to the Blessed Mother and the Holy Spirit to music and sports.

When it comes to gratitude, nothing is out of bounds.

Father Rocky says people who manage to maintain an attitude of gratitude even during deep sorrows and struggles do so from a place of God-given grace.

“That takes faith, doesn’t it?” he said. “And faith itself is a gift. Every priest has come across people who are objectively in painful and difficult situations and discover that they have this marvelous peace and serenity and joy in the midst of the cross, and it’s not a natural experience; it’s a supernatural experience because they have this deep faith in God that is at work in all of this. The expression of gratitude in those circumstances is almost like a barometer of the faith we have.”

That’s not to say that if we get angry and upset we don’t have faith, because it is only natural to get angry and upset with God sometimes. In those cases, both Father Rocky and Bishop Scharfenberger recommend adoration in front of the Blessed Sacrament, meditation on the mysteries of the Rosary and confession.

“You can really feel the grace working within you to change, to say, ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me, and I’d like to begin again.’ We can get caught in that downward spiral, and we break the spiral by God’s grace, which comes from contrition but also through the sacraments. They’re very helpful,” Father Rocky said. “Grace really affects us, really improves us.”

According to Figueroa, true gratitude doesn’t ignore life’s difficulties but, instead, locates God “precisely in the midst of the messy places.”

“Gratitude does not pretend that challenges do not exist; instead, the practice of gratitude can help us find God in these challenges. Not only does gratitude push us to discover places of abundance over scarcity, it also teaches us that God is present even amidst the scarcity,” Figueroa said, adding that it’s something she has to continually practice in her own life.

Once you begin to develop that attitude of gratitude, it grows and spreads.

“Then you can recognize God in people around you, and in nature, and in the seasons, and in everything,” Father Rocky said. “It allows in the presence of God and opens you to a situation of joy.”

Be humble

Bishop Scharfenberger stressed that frustration over the struggles we may encounter in daily life — and even the most grateful among us feels frustrated now and then — can be a sign that our growth and potential are being blocked.

So for those of us who often find ourselves stuck in a moment of sadness, anger or despair, there’s no reason to lose hope or think that we, too, can’t move ourselves back toward gratitude and joy. The key, however, is realizing that we can’t do it alone; rather, we need God’s help.

“Gratitude becomes a recognition and a confession that ‘I need a savior,’ that ‘I cannot save myself. The source of any hope lies outside myself,’” Bishop Scharfenberger said. “Gratitude is more than an attitude or a habit or a tendency; it is a relationship with my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ. It goes beyond being grateful for the gift of life and all the good things of the world, even the gift of family and friendship.

“It is gratitude for being rescued from the pit of darkness by the Lord, who chose to save me even before I realized I needed to be saved,” he added. “It is in such darker moments that what gratitude really means becomes clearest and most real: gratitude is a relationship with that person who loves me with an unconditional love. The only just response to the call of that gift is gratitude.”

Of course, not everyone is inclined to see even dark moments as a gift, and that is why we need to nurture the practice of gratitude when times are good. If we lay a strong foundation of faith focused on our blessings, we will have something to shore us up when those storm clouds inevitably come rolling in.

“I’ve found that a gratitude practice helps us to notice what is already taking place in our ordinary, daily lives,” Figueroa said. “Gratitude opens up a new world to us, when we start to notice the gifts that are always available to us, always surrounding us, waiting to be seen. Gratitude can give us new eyes to see what has been there the whole time.”

It’s critical, too, to remember that God is always present.

“Even in the most desolate of circumstances, we are oftentimes surprised by the abundance of gifts that somehow, impossibly, seem to show up — a kind look from a stranger, a nurturing friend, a new insight or glimpse of hope,” she added. “God provides us with enough, and a practice of gratitude can help us notice this.”

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