How I Learned To Be Grateful For The Little Things In Life.

I was sitting in my backyard this morning, dew still clung to the shaded bits of grass, the sun began crawling upward from behind the mountains. A warm caramel glaze saturated the pines on the hillside.

It was a peaceful scene. The dogs were playing and jostling in the emerging sunlight. My tea rested beside me, steam gently swaying from the cup. As I scanned the yard, observing the work Sheena and I are doing to it, I was able to picture all the things we have planned for it; a pool appeared where now a simple patch of dirt resides, to my right, I could almost hear the playful bubbles of a churning hot-tub that shall soon rest outside our door.

Though these things have not yet taken place, so many other blessings in my life have. I started to feel a swell of immense gratitude and appreciation for my life. A life often fraught with obstacle and challenge — I suppose that’s just life, isn’t it…?

Regardless, a smile befell me. I’ve come a long way from where I once was… my surroundings were at times much less peaceful and serene then they are now. I struggle some moments with feeling worthy of this life now given to me. Those around assure me that I am indeed deserving, and I suppose even amidst my self-doubt, I trust in their sincerity. It’s what’s carried me through so many other lonely days…

By the time my introspection had faded from forefront, the sun had risen triumphant and boastful. The subtle hue of morning had now given way to the vibrance of new daylight. Birds began to sing and dance while in flight. What a thing, this life we have — surrounded by so much tranquility and marvel, and yet still so many days go by where we cease to slow down for long enough to really appreciate it.

But not this morning. This morning I was in full embrace by the present tense of the moment. I felt no immediate need to rush nor scurry, there was no beckon toward this or that, there was just stillness of time. The aches of mind and body felt less weighted then they often do. This morning was a true blessing.

My wish for you is this, whether it be A.M., or P.M., I hope for you a moment of calm. For as Shakespeare once said, “In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.” That is my favorite part of the quote; stillness and humility, the two things that can have the most profound an impact on our lives and our souls. Often trapped within the bustle of work and life, it can be hard, or seemingly impossible to slow down, even for a second. But, it’s important that we do, because we deserve to. We need to. Even if it’s just long enough to finish a fine cup of tea…

That was my Tuesday morning. Tell me about yours…?

One response to “How I Learned To Be Grateful For The Little Things In Life.”

  1. Laurel Avatar
    Laurel

    Good Evening
    I couldn’t agree more. It’s important to allow ourselves time, even though we are kind of programmed to feel guilty for doing so.
    We miss so many good and important things, often focusing on the “big” things.
    In my experience the small, simple things often bring not only the most pleasure, but balance to our lives.
    Best wishes from our team.

    Like

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I’m Matthew

Welcome to the official blog of Matthew Heneghan — author of A Medic’s Mind and Woven in War, and host of the trauma-focused podcast Unwritten Chapters.

As a former Canadian Armed Forces medic and civilian paramedic, I’ve lived through the raw edges of trauma, addiction, grief, and healing. Through honest storytelling and lived experience, I write and speak about PTSD, trauma recovery, mental health awareness, and resilience — especially from the lens of veterans and first responders.

If you’re searching for real-life stories of overcoming adversity, the effects of service-related trauma, or insight into the recovery process after hitting rock bottom — you’re in the right place. My goal is to foster connection through shared experience, break stigma, and offer hope.

Explore the blog, tune into the podcast, and discover how writing became a lifeline — and might just become yours, too.

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