As Thanksgiving approaches, I am asking myself a question beyond counting my blessings: What do people experience when they encounter me? Patience, kindness and room to be human? Or the weight of my expectations, impatience and need to be right?

Not long ago, I was given grace I had not earned. I could hardly believe it. I was overwhelmed, flooded with a thankfulness that caught me off guard, and reminded that gratitude is more than a feeling we bring to the table once a year. It is what grows when grace takes root.

It is easier to appreciate grace when I need it than to extend it when someone has disappointed me. Yet that uncomfortable place is where I believe God is calling me to grow.

I want to cultivate a culture of grace, a way of living so rooted in God’s grace that it shapes my responses, especially when I am tired, hurt or misunderstood.

The Bible, our instruction manual, makes clear that God calls His people to reflect His mercy. Jesus tells us in Luke 6:36, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” When I remember the mercy I received, and how often God has met my shortcomings the same way, I have to ask: Why am I sometimes so determined to make others earn mine?

Perhaps you recognize that struggle, too. We want understanding for our intentions, yet judge others by their actions. When I fall short, I know the whole story: I was exhausted, I meant well. When others fall short, I often see only what they did. We hope our mistakes will be forgiven while quietly keeping a record of someone else’s.

Cultivating grace asks for honesty. I have confused accountability with making someone feel small. I have called resentment discernment. I have defined people by their worst moment, leaving no space to grow.

Prayer gives me space to face these questions and ask God to expose what I would rather excuse. It also takes humility to hear another person’s experience without immediately defending my own.

Grace does not erase truth, consequences or wise boundaries. We can address a wrong without letting bitterness govern our response. We can forgive a friend who broke a confidence and still be careful what we share for a season. Forgiveness can be given in a moment; trust is rebuilt over time. Compassion and accountability can share the same conversation.

This practice begins in ordinary moments: pausing before the sharp reply, listening without preparing a defense, apologizing without shifting blame, and owning our mistakes without making them a permanent verdict on our worth.

As a Christian, I must consider what my conduct says about the Savior I follow. Does His compassion remain visible when kindness is inconvenient or forgiveness costs me something?

How we treat one another shapes our homes, workplaces and community. I see it monthly in the people who fill these pages: practitioners who listen longer than the appointment requires, neighbors who bring a meal, leaders who offer second chances. Grace is no lofty ideal but a daily practice that strengthens community.

Gratitude is how we recognize God’s grace; gracious living is how that grace bears fruit in the lives around us.

This Thanksgiving, may our gratitude become visible in someone else’s life: a person heard, a burden shared, appreciation finally spoken.

Who needs grace from us today? What are we holding that makes it difficult to give?

May we carry those questions long after the Thanksgiving table is cleared, letting the grace we have received keep growing outward.

Blessings until next month,

Bernice