When I retired after more than three decades of teaching high school English, I thought I had a pretty good handle on what life would look like. A bit of travel, more time with the grandkids, finally tackling that ever-growing stack of books on my nightstand.
But what I didn’t expect was the sudden quiet—not just in the house, but in my head.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t rushing to meet a bell schedule or managing a classroom full of teenagers. And while the peace was welcome, I also felt a little… unmoored. Like I’d stepped out of a story I’d spent my whole life writing.
That’s when I stumbled—almost accidentally—into the practice of daily gratitude.
Now, I know how that sounds. I used to raise an eyebrow, too, whenever I heard people talk about journaling or “practicing gratitude.” But I gave it a try. A few lines in the morning, a few in the evening. It seemed too simple to matter.
But it did.
Today, I want to share how that small, consistent habit began to quietly transform my days—and brought a kind of richness to retirement that I hadn’t known I was missing.
Let’s get into it.
Trading a restless mind for a reflective heart
One of the biggest shifts I noticed after retiring was the amount of time my mind suddenly had to wander. While teaching, my days were ruled by the clock. There were always student essays to grade, meetings to attend, and countless to-dos that kept me on the move.
Retirement, however, introduced a different kind of open space, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. My thoughts hopped from one question to the next: Should I be doing more? Was I losing my edge by stepping away from the classroom?
That’s when I started writing down what I was grateful for. At first, it was a quick morning note: “I’m grateful for my fresh pot of tea” or “I’m grateful for the chance to watch my grandson’s soccer game.” Though it felt trivial, this practice gave my restless mind a point of focus. Each time I caught myself spiraling into worry or second-guessing, I’d pause and jot down a simple gratitude statement. It was like a gentle hand on my shoulder, guiding me back to the present moment.
Over time, my notebook became a safe space. Whenever doubt crept in—about finances, about my fading role as an “expert” in a classroom, or simply about who I was outside of my profession—I’d flip through those pages. There they were: tangible reminders of what was going right.
Recognizing the blessings hidden in plain sight
Once I started taking note of small moments, I began to see blessings everywhere. Mornings with my rescue dog, Dakota, became less about hurrying through a walk and more about enjoying the early light filtering through the trees. I’d notice how he wagged his tail, excited by the simplest things—like a rustling leaf or a neighbor calling his name. It struck me that, all these years, I’d been rushing through experiences I could have savored.
When you truly look around, every day holds a handful of minor miracles. A wave from a friendly neighbor, the glow of a sunset on a weekend, or the chance to volunteer at a local literacy program and watch someone learn to read fluently.
There’s a quote by a Jesuit priest: “It’s not joy that makes us grateful; it’s gratitude that makes us joyful.” It’s so true. The deeper I sank into gratitude, the more I recognized her words unfolding right before my eyes. The simple act of noticing a blessing sparked a quiet joy in my heart.
Before long, practicing gratitude felt like slipping on a pair of glasses that let me see my life in sharper detail. The “little things” took on new significance. When I took the time to brew a cup of chamomile tea in the evening, for instance, I noticed its comforting aroma and subtle sweetness.
That same sense of presence spilled over into other parts of my day, too. Errands no longer felt like chores; they became a chance to greet the local barista, chat with the cashier about a new best-seller, or just appreciate having a reliable car to drive.
Deepening relationships through shared appreciation
Another surprise that came with my gratitude practice was how it affected my relationships. I’ve always treasured time with my family, especially my two sons and three grandchildren, but I realized there was more I could do to show them how much I value our moments together.
When I’d pick up my grandkids from school, for example, I started telling them one thing I loved about that day. Perhaps it was the breeze, or the latest novel I’d discovered at the local book club, or even a new recipe I’d tried over the weekend. Their faces lit up, and they often chimed in with their own small wonders—like a game they’d invented at recess or something funny their friend said in class.
Even my friends noticed the change in my demeanor. I remember meeting a fellow retiree for coffee—an old colleague from my teaching days. Rather than diving into my usual routine of small talk, I found myself focusing on the things about her I appreciated: her laugh, her sense of humor, the stories we’d shared back when we had lunch duty.
At my community literacy volunteer sessions, I noticed the same phenomenon. When I’d thank a participant for trusting me with their questions or for making steady progress, they’d beam with pride. It was a powerful reminder that we’re all hungry for acknowledgment.
Expressing gratitude became a kind of gift, not just to myself but to those around me, because it made each relationship—whether brand-new or decades old—feel more meaningful.
Turning obstacles into lessons
I’d love to say that gratitude stopped every challenge in its tracks, but life isn’t that simple.
Like anyone, I face struggles. Sometimes my joints ache, or I run into unexpected financial hiccups, or I miss the camaraderie of a bustling school hallway. There was even a time when my younger son moved across the country for a job, and I had to adjust to loving him from a distance.
In those moments, gratitude became a tool for reframing hardships. I’d ask myself, “What can I learn from this, and what am I still grateful for?” It didn’t negate the loss or frustration, but it did soften the edges.
For instance, when my son moved away, I reminded myself how fortunate I was to have the technology—video calls, messaging apps, photos on social media—to keep our connection strong. And that perspective opened my eyes to how many parents in previous generations had to rely on snail mail or an occasional long-distance phone call. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.
The more I looked for silver linings, the more I found them: a chance to travel and visit him in his new city, an excuse to plan family vacations so everyone could reconnect, and room for him to chase his own dreams.
Making gratitude a lifelong companion
Gratitude isn’t a one-time fix. It’s a habit, one that grows stronger the more consistently you nurture it. For me, it all began with a few lines in a notebook and has evolved into a perspective shift that colors every corner of my day.
Some people like keeping a gratitude jar, where they drop in small notes of thanks. Others prefer an app. I still use my trusty notebook—it’s simple, portable, and gives me a break from screens.
In my experience, what starts as a small act can lead to big changes. The more you notice what’s good, the more good there seems to be. It’s a bit like a self-fulfilling prophecy: once your mind becomes trained to look for the positive, you spot it in unexpected places. That might sound idealistic, but I’ve lived it. Day by day, my sense of gratitude has become a steady companion, turning restlessness into reflection and challenges into stepping stones.
Final words
There you have it—my journey with a simple, steady practice that brought an unexpected richness to this phase of my life. By focusing on what’s present and what’s good, I found a sense of purpose beyond the classroom walls.
Try it. You might be surprised by how much can change once you start paying attention to what you’re thankful for. There’s probably an entire world of everyday wonders waiting for you to notice them…or at least, there was for me.
