A couple of months ago, I got to take my daughter on a quick trip to Florida to visit my parents. The first full day we were there was thankfully the most beautiful, perfect day ever. Blue skies, white sand, a little breeze, and a very excited 4-year-old. Watching her run back and forth to get water for the sandcastle her Daddy O was building for her, getting to chat with my Mom, and feeling the sand between my toes was a little slice of Heaven on earth.

We had just gotten settled on the beach the second morning when I got a text delivering heartbreaking news about a good friend. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t hold back the tears and began thinking of what I could’ve said or done differently to give her more help and support. After talking to my mom about it and accepting that there was nothing I could do from where I was at other than pray, I decided to take a walk. Josie and my mom went with me, and it didn’t take long before Josie’s endless chatter and excitement over finding shells and running after seagulls helped me to feel better. After a bit, Josie and my mom headed back while I kept walking and looking for shells. The waves were a little more rough than the day before so finding shells was a little harder, but then I found a little tide pool that had some of the tiniest shells I had ever seen and I spent a good amount of time hunting for them and clearing my head.

On my walk back, I saw another pretty shell and when I picked it up, I was so excited at how beautiful it really was. It was a small lightning whelk, one of my favorite types, whose shape was perfectly intact and the most beautiful shade of soft white. If was like the Audrey Hepburn of shells. It was like finding the perfect pair of red high heels when you weren’t even shopping for shoes. Or finding your favorite bottle of Pinot Noir on sale.

And then it was gone.

When I put my hand back in the water to get the sand off of my elegantly beautiful shell, the pull of the wave pulled it right back into the surf. Immediately frustrated and devastated but still hopeful, I frantically looked for the shell while trying not to look like I wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards. After about a minute, I knew the chance of actually finding it was extremely slim, but there was that part of me that kept thinking, “If you keep looking just a little bit longer, you might find it.”

So I did. I kept looking for another couple of minutes. And then it hit me, like the wave that robbed me of my find: by focusing all my attention and effort on that one small shell that slipped out of my hand, I was completely disregarding the handful of beautiful shells that I was still carrying. Not to mention the ones I had found the day before.

How many times have I done that? Focused so much on what I didn’t have anymore, or even what I didn’t have in the first place, that I lost sight of what I do have. Finding people or things to blame instead of finding people or things to thank or be thankful for. Choosing to be ungrateful over grateful.

I think back to finding out that my baby would have Down syndrome. How easily I could’ve chosen to be mad at God for taking away my “perfect” baby or focus what my baby wouldn’t be able to do in his or her life. To find all of the negatives that were likely going to flood my life because of that extra chromosome.

If I had done that, would I have been able to rejoice in all the ultrasounds and tests afterwards that showed a healthy, growing baby? Would I have been able to feel the excitement that came with each passing week that brought me closer to meeting the newest member of our family? Would I have been able to through my hands up in victory when the doctor announced that I had just given birth to the boy I had prayed for?

Probably not. Because an ungrateful, negative mindset does not lend itself to finding positivity, let alone joy, in such things.

Having a grateful, positive mindset doesn’t mean that you aren’t affected by the wide-range of hardships that life brings. It doesn’t protect you from feeling the hurt, disappointment, sadness, or frustration that comes with life’s downs, such as losing the most perfect lightning whelk shell or learning of an unexpected and life-changing diagnosis.

We all know that life is far from perfect. Everyday brings challenges and obstacles that can rob us of our sense of safety, security, happiness, etc. Some of those things are small, some are ginormous. Some affect us for a minute, some for the rest of our lives.

Unfortunately, we cannot control the next snag we hit, the next hurdle we have to jump, or the next tragedy we face. We can, however, control how we respond. It doesn’t mean that we can necessarily snap our fingers and poof! change our feelings, but it does mean that we can choose to be grateful for what we do have. And that will be different for everyone. For some is might be a relationship, for some it might be their memories, for some it might be a prized possession, or for others it might be the hope for a better tomorrow. I don’t think it matters what you choose to be grateful for as long as you choose to be grateful.

One thing I’ve learned about having a grateful, positive mindset is that it doesn’t just benefit you. It will also absolutely have an impact on those around you, especially the people closest to you. If I had continued being frustrated about losing a shell I had in my possession for all of 30 seconds, I would have been sure to affect Josie and my parents. I mean, how would they not be affected by a pouting 38-year-old woman?

Or this evening when my darling son pulled the plate of deviled eggs off the counter this evening and I immediately expressed my frustration by loudly saying, “NO! NOT NICE!!!” and giving him my best disappointed-mom look while I cleaned up the mess. But then instead of staying mad about the six delicious eggs I had to put down the garbage disposal, I chose thankful for the 4 that were salvaged. (And for the 3 that I had eaten when I was making them.) The result? A pleasant, enjoyable family meal was had by all.

Life is hard. There will be ups and downs. I hope that you will choose to be grateful for your ups.