Gratitude, Grief, and Everything In Between: Reflections on Day 365 of 2025
Gratitude, Grief, and Everything In Between
Reflections on Day 365 of 2025
Whew, chile. Lol. I’m not even sure if there’s a word—or words—that can sum up this test… I mean year… or maybe just life.
I like to think that a rough season is just part of it. Regardless of how it’s defined for you, know that 2025 for me = no bueno 😂. I wonder if God prompted me to practice gratitude at the start of the year because of it.
Stamp one little phrase. A sentence. Think of a person, a place, and write it down so you don’t forget. I tend to forget—especially when all the ish hits the ground. Makes seeing the next step a bit foggy. Anyway… can you relate? 👀
I’m sitting here in Newark Airport after a little trip that I deemed I was deserving of because… well, reference sentence one of this “no one asked for your thoughts” writing piece. Reflection. Blog. Whatever this is. But what the hell—I feel like writing. And like everything else in this life, writing helps me process, reflect, adjust, and continue.
Back to Gratitude
This takes me back to January. I believe I was scanning Instagram University, and a post on gratitude stopped me in my tracks. Lowkey made me proud because my algorithm wasn’t filled with a bunch of buffoonery.
Anywho, the post talked about how to live a “happier life.”
Now, usually I’m a fairly happy and optimistic person—my family and close friends can attest. But when everything started moving at the speed of light, I found myself wanting to slow down enough to stop asking, “How is it already so-and-so month?”
I was done sleepwalking through life and asking God for purpose beyond the 9–5. Lol, who am I kidding—in education it’s more like 7–6. (Jesus!)
My prayer shifted from “Find me purpose” to “Help me see purpose in the mundane—creation, the things often overlooked.”
I read Atomic Habits some years back and was reminded of the two-minute rule. Meaning: if you don’t have two minutes to press into the things you say you want, you’re Pinocchio-nosing yourself. (I know James Clear didn’t use the term Pinocchio nose, but I like to think it was implied 🤪.)
How many of us are just lying to ourselves at our big age?
If I wanted to see this year clearly, I had to practice how to do it. And ain’t nobody really like doing that. We want it all without the 10,000 hours of mastery that comes with it.
Disclaimer
I failed at practicing gratitude all year.
There were many days where I just did not want to. Hahaha. In fact, from July to about November, my side quest to a great big life became more and more sparse—especially when haste, worry, anxiety, and grief kicked themselves up a notch… and another notch… and another.
Oh, Come On: Yes, And!
You ever be venting to someone, and they say,
“Didn’t you pray for the thing you’re complaining about now?”
And you just stare at them like the eyeball emoji… 👀
“Well, yes. And it’s hard.
Yes, and practice takes work.
Yes, and thanks for the challenge…. I guess.
And yes—multiple things can exist at the same damn time.”
And yes, the “someone” I’m referencing is my little sister. Lol
Being grateful for all the duality turns the “gratitude knob” down a bit because hardship is louder. Like a pestering gnat that enters your nostrils when all you want is fresh air. Amen?
But the cool thing about writing stuff down is that you don’t forget. It’s a subtle reminder to blow your nose and breathe again.
Ripping and Running
This year, my middle name became “Ripping and Running.”
Yup—Garvin “Ripping and Running” Williams.
Did I slow down this year? Heck no.
But in the midst of it, I wasn’t running alone.
This past summer, some friends and I read Practicing the Way by John Mark Comer. In it, he shared a story about a chef who was also ripping and running—with purpose and intention.
When the kitchen heats up, when sweat falls like rain, when you question whether you’re running in place… alone?
I was reminded of a God who does it with you. Who reminds you, even in haste, that you can slow down in gratitude for what’s around you.
(P.S. My guy John Mark did not use the term ripping and running, but like Pinocchio nose, I like to think it was implied.)
Before the school year began, and before I ventured off to be this “boss man” for many young people and staff, I made up my mind to be a servant leader the best way I knew how. To fight for people the world deems most vulnerable. To see them as God’s children.
Like, dead ass—if a student misbehaves, I’ll say,
“God… ain’t that your child?”
A reminder for Him to go in front of me 😂
All jokes aside, I felt like that chef—moving at the speed of light. Gratitude slowed me down and helped me stay present.
Living on Purpose
How do we live a life on purpose?
I’m not saying gratitude is the only way, but I do think it helps. And it doesn’t neglect the real shit we all go through. It’s just a subtle reminder to take a tiny step when that’s all the energy we have.
On my worst days, I find myself doing exactly that—taking it literally one step at a time.
Note From the Sky:
I’m now on the plane back to Dallas, typing this with a chocolate quinoa cracker thing. Got me thinking… what happened to those biscuit cookies? Lol.
Alright—let me be grateful.
Grief & Courage
“Grief is just misplaced love that has nowhere to go.”
—Regina King
There’s a lot of truth in that.
Grief forces you to break open. And nothing—nothing—was like the duality of newness, tremendous courage, and surrounding murkiness that defined the second half of my year. Life felt like the bottom of shoes.
That season required full surrender. A reminder to feel it out, keep on… feel it out, and better keep on—ready or not.
This is where the one-a-day gratitude reminders became less frequent.
August
Let’s go to August, shall we?
The Friday before school started, I found myself—plainly put—crashing out.
I was sitting in my new office, the one I was destined to lead people from. Halfway through professional development week, with every new thing imaginable sitting at my feet, I got a call: my dad was being rushed to the hospital with a faint heartbeat.
I apologized profusely to my siblings for not being there, forgetting that I had been there just the weekend before. Hard things have a way of making you forget. They throw you into an abyss of regret.
I looked out the office window and saw people searching for answers I didn’t have.
“Garvin, be strong.
Garvin, be optimistic.
We have a pulse…”
Which quickly turned into another call—me saying goodbye to my dad from the principal’s office.
Here’s the trouble: me, a leader? Folks looking to me for answers? And I had nothing to give.
I was in this “high office” feeling like a little kid again, staring at the ceiling for answers.
Whew, chile.
Gratitude, Unexpected
I pressed into vulnerability and stood before a group of people who had just met me—people looking to me to lead them.
I spoke about resiliency. About how they were a resilient group. I told them I would be back to start the year.
Trying to hold myself together.
I’ll never forget a line forming. And silly me, hands in my pockets, didn’t even realize it was a line for hugs.
Gratitude in hardship is unexpected.
In my new staff lived a tiny but powerful reminder:
“Oh… I am not alone.”
Love That Shows Up
I loved my pops.
As I heard stories from people who knew him before he was my dad—when he dreamed of being a chef, DJ’d the best tunes, and apparently knew karate (who was this man?)—I learned who he was.
Above all, he was courageous. He made people laugh. He gave advice. He loved—and was loved.
In the cracks of hurt, hope lived. And gratitude showed up again.
It showed up through friends and colleagues who made sure I had everything I needed.
From Ms. Jackson’s homemade gumbo…
To people showing up at my house because they knew Garvin might need to chat—or maybe just sit.
Gratitude showed up through calls, texts, and presence.
It showed up again when the Sierra Leone community gathered for their friend—my pops—and Scripture came alive.
Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
To lay down your life doesn’t always mean dying.
Sometimes it means speaking life.
Encouraging.
Sitting in silence.
Eating fried chicken together.
Walking with someone just because.
Interrupting your life enough to remember it was never meant to be lived alone.
Everything, Everywhere, All at Once
Y’all know that movie?
If I had to title the last six months—or this whole year—it might be Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.
Duality.
Joy and sorrow.
Hope and hurt.
Courage and fear.
Light and darkness.
Rest… and get back up.
Everything. Everything. Everything—all at once.
2025 was difficult.
But when people ask me how I’m doing, how my family is, how my siblings are—I’m reminded what a privilege it is to be loved. To have people ask and truly mean it.
As I wipe tears with the little square napkin the flight attendant gave me—right after handing me another one of those chocolate quinoa wafers that was lowkey good—I think about who I’m becoming.
And when darkness tries to drain again, I’ll remember this:
Though this Hercules year has been challenging, it has not been lonely.
And for that, I am so grateful.
Comments
Post a Comment