I Give Thanks 2025 Edition:
A Heart Laid Bare

I Give Thanks 2025 Edition: Here in the United States, tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day — a holiday stitched deeply into the fabric of our lives. It’s not just a date on the calendar; it’s a pause, a breath, a moment when families gather from near and far to sit together and say, “We’re still here, and we are grateful.”

As we enter this season once again, I find myself looking back over 2025 — over the struggles, surprises, and small miracles — and I feel compelled to name the blessings that carried me through.

In a world that often feels loud, chaotic, and unsteady, I still see light breaking through. I still see grace showing up where I least expect it. And so, once again this year, I give thanks…

• My Creator: For the One who knows my name, who knows every hair, every cell, every fear, every hope. Despite what anyone else believes or whispers, I stand tall in the truth that I am a child of G_d — loved, seen, and held. I walk in the light because I refuse to live in the shadow of death.

• My Family and the Echo of My Ancestors: For the people who shaped me, even the ones I never met. Their perseverance, their triumphs and failures, their wounds and wisdom — all of it led to my being here. I am because they were.

• My Country: For the freedoms I enjoy, messy and imperfect though they are. And for the men and women who serve in every branch of the U.S. military, whose sacrifices protect the liberties I hope never to take for granted.

• My Life — Simply, Miraculously, My Life: Over two years ago, in February 2023, I faced a brutality no one ever imagines for themselves. Drugged, beaten, left in a coma. Revived after a fentanyl overdose. Intubated. ICU. Permanent spinal damage. And yet — yet — I walked myself out of that hospital. On a cane, yes, but on my own legs. By the grace of G_d. By the hands of first responders and miracle-working medical professionals. I give thanks for breath itself.

• My Strength as a Long-Term COVID Survivor: For the astonishing blessing of rising each morning under my own strength. Of dressing myself. Cooking for myself. Moving through the world. I know these are gifts not everyone has — and I honor the caregivers who step in where bodies falter.

• Wisdom: For the quiet understanding of the difference between what must be done and what I simply want to do — and the grace-filled days when those two things become the same.

• My Health: For the 120+ pounds I shed since my bariatric surgery in 2015 — a surgery that saved my life. For the four follow-up surgeries that helped me walk again after various falls – let’s just say that “Grace” will never be my middle name. For medical science that offered me a future my ancestors never could have imagined.

• My Freedom to Be Who I Am: To live authentically. To accept myself and others. To speak my mind. To listen with an open heart. These, too, are freedoms — precious ones.

• Abundance, and the Courage to Let Go: My mother once taught me: “Let go of what you’re gripping so tightly. Only then can your palm open to receive the next good thing.” These words have become my compass. Letting go is how abundance flows in.

• The Desire to Play the Full Keyboard of Life: Not just the easy notes — all of it. Even the sharps and flats. Especially the ones that surprise me.

• My Husband: For the man who has loved me for more than 25 years — through every joy, every storm, every version of myself. The man who celebrates my quirks: the fact that I’ve never appeared on America’s Most Wanted, that I’ve avoided the clutches of Hello Kitty, that I can spot Waldo in seconds, and that my opinionated streak makes him grin. He is my beshert — my destiny — and each year with him is better than the last.

• My Genealogy Community: For the vibrant, generous family of genealogists and family historians — many of whom I know only online — who push me to learn, challenge me to think differently, forgive my missteps, and invite me back into the dance each time I falter.

• My Career: For the privilege of doing what I love — telling the stories of families, helping others understand where they come from, and honoring the threads that connect generations.

• The Liberation of Not Caring What Others Think: For the freedom from that silent prison. For the reminder that only dead fish go with the flow — and that “validation” is best left for parking lots.

• A Roof, a Meal, and Another Day: For the simple, essential blessings — a safe home, food on the table, the stability to say, “Let’s do this again next year in 2026, please.”

• Those I’ve Lost: For the friends and loved ones who left this world in 2025. Their faces, their laughter, their lessons — all of it lingers. Their absence reminds me to cherish my own fleeting time here.

• A Universe That Leans Toward Justice: Slow as it may be at times, I trust that the arc bends toward what is right.

• My Mother: For the woman who gave me life, taught me resilience, nurtured my curiosity, and shaped the way I move through the world. We disagreed plenty, but she taught me that love leaves room for disagreement. Most of all, she taught me how to say thank you.

And so — I say it. Every day. I give thanks.

©2025, copyright Thomas MacEntee.  All rights reserved.