Gratitude Is Not Denial

The calendar still says summer, but in Apple A Day, we’ve moved into Fall.

That matters because the seasons in Kelly Orchard’s Apple A Day are not really about the weather. They are about the metaphysical seasons of personal growth. Spring asks what needs to begin. Summer asks what needs tending. Fall asks a different question:

What has grown?

That is the question I’ve been sitting with this week.

August has been a little funky for me. I’ve been productive, yes, but emotionally I’ve also been moving through some winter weather of my own. Grief has still been sitting nearby. The third anniversary of my dad’s passing has made this month feel heavier than I expected, and I’ve been reminded again that even when you understand grief well, you still have to live through it in real time.

That is one reason I return so often to the daily practices I write about.

Apple A Day was never just a book series I created and left behind. It is something I still use. These little reflections work because they help train my attention. They remind me that gratitude is not denial. Gratitude is not pretending life is easy or insisting that everything is fine when it clearly isn’t. Gratitude is the practice of noticing what is still true, still good, still growing, and still worth carrying forward.

This week, that practice helped me notice a few things.

For one thing, I’ve been grateful for the storms.

Now, I love storms. I always have. I love the rain, the sound of thunder, the electricity in the air, the drama of a good monsoon afternoon. Kismet, however, does not share my enthusiasm. When the storm rolls in, he wants to be close. He comes to me for comfort. He wants reassurance. He wants to be held and soothed and reminded that he is safe.

And there is something incredibly tender about that.

I’m not grateful that he’s frightened, of course. But I am grateful for what the storm reveals. It reveals trust. It reveals dependence. It reveals tenderness. It reminds me that one of God’s creatures feels safe with me, and that is not something I take lightly.

Honestly, it also reminds me of how God comforts us. Not because we’ve earned it. Not because we got everything right. Sometimes we need comfort simply because we need comfort, and that is enough.

Sometimes gratitude is not for the storm itself. Sometimes gratitude is for the tenderness the storm reveals.

Another thing I’ve been grateful for is a habit that has quietly returned to my life.

At the campground, Kismet has to be walked every morning. There isn’t enough room to just let him out and let him roam, so walking has become part of our daily rhythm. What’s interesting is that this used to be a regular habit for me. I used to walk every morning all the time, and somewhere along the way—through grief, transition, and the strange emotional weather of the last few years—I lost that rhythm.

Now, because of the campground and because of Kismet’s needs, the habit has become necessary again. And I’m grateful for that necessity, because it has helped me return to something that was good for me.

Sometimes circumstances help us cultivate what grief or disruption interrupted.

That is one of the things I love about Fall as a season of growth. Fall is not only about saying thank you for obvious blessings. It is also about recognizing what has quietly grown, what has returned, and what is worth continuing.

That’s part of what Apple A Day Fall is about.

Kelly Orchard’s Apple A Day Fall is called Harvest the Fruit, and it’s designed to help you work through a harvest season of life one day at a time. Inside the book are 88 daily reflections, each paired with a simple journal page that asks two questions: What is this Apple inviting me to notice? And what is one small step I’ll take?

That’s one of the reasons the books continue to work for me. They don’t ask for dramatic reinvention. They ask for attention. One thought. One reflection. One step. One honest moment of noticing.

If you’d like a closer look at the Fall book, I also walk through it in this week’s video.

Another thing I’ve been grateful for in this funky August is the new friends who have been finding their way into The Courtyard.

As the Heart Lessons campaign has brought in new subscribers, I’ve found myself doing something simple but meaningful. Every time I get the email notification, I read the person’s first name and say it out loud. “Hi, so-and-so. Thanks for being here.”

That may sound small, but it matters to me.

It reminds me that I’m not watching a number. I’m welcoming a person. Someone with a story. Someone standing at a crossroads. Someone carrying something. Someone looking for perspective, comfort, growth, or just a small next step. Saying their name out loud keeps the whole thing human, and I’m grateful for that.

I’m also grateful for the work itself.

Pepper’s story is still with my editor. Perry Carpenter’s story is moving more slowly than I had anticipated, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t moving. In fact, some of the slowing down has been useful. I’ve been talking with friends who have lived the experience I’m describing, gathering perspective, listening more deeply, and allowing some of that to digest. That is part of the process too.

Not every harvest is fast.

Some stories take a long time to ripen. Some projects deepen while they appear to be standing still.

And then there’s Dead Air, The Day the Music Died, which has started to open another little door. I’ve begun exploring whether it might have any potential as a film or episodic project, and while that’s still very much in the “watering a seed” stage, it is something I’m grateful for. Sometimes an older creative work reminds you it still has life in it.

That is a harvest too.

There has also been a smaller, lighter kind of harvest happening behind the scenes. I’ve been test-marketing a little bit of Licensed2BBadass merchandise, just prototypes for now, and the response has been encouraging and fun. Nothing big to announce yet, but it has been one of those reminders that growth does not always have to be heavy to be meaningful. Some of the fruit is serious. Some of it is practical. Some of it is just plain fun.

And that counts too.

So this week, as Kelly Orchard’s Apple A Day moves into Fall, I’m paying attention to what has grown.

Not because life is perfect.

Not because August has been easy.

Not because gratitude erases grief or fatigue or uncertainty.

But because gratitude helps me tell the truth more completely.

It helps me say: this is hard, and this is also good.

This hurts, and this is also beautiful.

I am tired, and this is still worth giving thanks for.

That is what I mean when I say gratitude is not denial.

It is a practice. It is a discipline of attention. It is one of the ways I continue to harvest wisdom from the seasons I’ve lived.

And if you are in a Fall season of your own right now, maybe that is the question for you too:

What has grown?

What are you grateful for, not because life is perfect, but because it is true?

What habit has returned, or been restored, or become worth cultivating again?

What comfort has been revealed in the storm?

What fruit is ready to be recognized?

And if Fall feels like the season you’re in, you can explore the book here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H9WLZ2WK