Hi Melinda,

I wasn’t planning to send a Thanksgiving email.

Not because I’m not grateful, but because I didn’t want to add to the noise—the inbox-flood of “Happy Thanksgiving!” messages that feel more obligatory than heartfelt.

But then I experienced something this week that dropped me straight into a deeper kind of gratitude—the kind that feels like nourishment. And I wanted to share it with you.

A Basket, a Pair of Clippers, and a Moment of Self-Care

This evening, we’re hosting ten family members for an early Thanksgiving dinner.
As I went through the typical motions of getting ready for today’s meal and gathering, a longing emerged—a desire to create a beautiful tablescape that felt warm and meaningful.

I considered going to the store for faux greenery and Pinterest-perfect décor.
But my spirit whispered no.
I wanted something real. Something holy.

So I grabbed a basket, put on my gloves, and walked into our backyard.

And then something unexpected happened.

As I moved from bush to bush—rosemary, sage, boxwood, privet—I could feel my creativity expanding.

With every clip of the shears, I offered a little gratitude:

Thank you for this branch.
Thank you for this fragrance.
Thank you for being part of what my family will gather around tonight.

Fifteen minutes later, my basket was full—and so was I.

I brought the clippings inside and began creating—tucking a single sprig into each napkin, weaving greenery around the platters, laying rosemary across the soon-to-be-occupied turkey platter.

The whole table transformed—not because it was fancy, but because it was intentional.

It felt like an altar.

A quiet honoring of everyone who would gather at it tonight (and even for those who aren't able to join us).

And what surprised me most?

It didn’t feel like holiday prep.
It felt like self-care.
Like gratitude in motion.

The Gratitude Beneath the Gratitude

Today reminded me of something essential:

Not all gratitudes are spoken.
Some are created.
Some are lived.
Some are quietly gathered with a basket and clippers in your own backyard.

And some—perhaps the most powerful—are the ones we feel but never say out loud.

So today, instead of offering you the typical Thanksgiving message, I want to offer you this deeper invitation:

Go beneath your gratitudes.

Ask yourself:

What am I grateful for because it taught me what I didn’t know I needed to learn?
What am I grateful for because it revealed who I truly am?
What am I grateful for because it whispered, “rise”?
What am I grateful for because it sent me down an unexpected path?

What are your gratitudes beneath the gratitudes?

These are the gratitudes that nourish you.
The gratitudes that regulate your nervous system.
The gratitudes that reconnect you to your deepest self.

The gratitudes that fill the table inside your own heart.

When I sat with these kinds of questions earlier this week, something shifted.
I could feel myself dropping out of the polite version of gratitude and into the cellular version—the kind that carries truth, memory, scar tissue, and magic.

It grounded me.
It softened me.
It reminded me of who I’ve become because of the twists and turns of my own life's journey, not despite them.

So remember to include yourself in your gratitudes today.
It's a radical act of self-care that often goes overlooked.

Wherever this day finds you (whether you’re in the US or not), whether you’re hosting, traveling, cooking, sitting alone, resting, grieving, celebrating, or simply breathing—I’m grateful for you.

Truly.

With love and greenery-clipped-in-a-basket of magic,
Melinda