There is a story about a man who joins a monastery and takes a strict vow of silence. He is allowed to speak only two words, once a year.

After the first year the abbot brings him in. "Your two words?" The man clears his throat. "Bed hard." The abbot nods and sends him away.

After the second year: "Bad food." The abbot nods again.

After the third year the man comes in and says: "I quit.”

The abbot looks at him and says, "That's not surprising. You've done nothing but complain since you got here.”

It's funny because we recognize it. The pull toward complaint is strong and remarkably consistent. Give us silence and we fill it with grievances. Give us two words and we spend them on what's wrong.

Psalm 107 pushes back gently against that tendency. It doesn't pretend that life is easy or that hardship isn't real. It names hunger and thirst, darkness and prison, storm and sea. But then, four times, it returns to the same refrain: "Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.”

Gratitude, the psalm suggests, is not a feeling that arrives automatically. It is a practice — a deliberate turning of attention toward what is true and good and worth noticing.

We always have two words. The question is what we spend them on.

Prayer: Forgive us, O God, for how quickly we reach for complaint. Open our eyes today to the blessings we have been walking past. Give us a grateful heart — not because everything is easy, but because you have been faithful. Amen.

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