Prove It
Jewel Busch 
What happens when I remind myself that gratitude is a choice, not a feeling?
I'm really relating to the children of Israel these days.
They experienced miracle upon miracle proving to them that God would fight their battles and lead their way, and yet every time they came to a new obstacle, they were filled with fear, resentment, and regret.
They crossed through an entire sea on dry ground, but when they came to a place of hunger in the wilderness, their reaction was to wish to God that they had died in the land of Egypt, when they ate bread to the full. (Ex. 16:3).
I remember reading this account as a young missionary and scoffing at their doubts, wondering how a people who were so obviously cared for by God could have so much fear every time they came to a new difficulty.
And then I grew up and had some rather humbling experiences that taught me to see how, for the children of Israel, years of slavery and servitude and generations of bondage and trauma had rewired their brains. When someone is raised in scarcity and fear, it makes sense that those will be their go-to responses anytime scary or unfamiliar circumstances arise.
So of course the children of Israel expressed fear and concern every time they saw their children starving or dying of thirst in the wilderness (Ex. 16:3).
And God, being the loving, merciful Being He is, gave them opportunities over the next 40 years to learn to trust Him in the midst of the wilderness.
This same merciful, loving God is now giving me the opportunity to deepen my understanding of these same principles for myself.
Having three children with diabetes has been a daily manna-gathering object lesson over the past two years. I've learned firsthand that God cares for His covenant people in personal and meaningful ways. He has shown me, over and over again, that as our family has gathered daily manna (whether that manna be financial, medical, spiritual, or emotional), we have both grown and even thrived during our wilderness adventures.
Truly.
God's hand has moved in our lives in miraculous ways and, as a result my relationship with my Savior and my Heavenly Parents has deepened in areas that I never could have previously imagined.
And yet, when I got the call that my youngest child had the markers that showed that he was developing diabetes, my first response wasn't one of gratitude, or faith, or trust.
I felt scared. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Terrified.
And so very sad.
I complained to God.
Plenty.
And, just like the children of Israel, when I did my best to go to God, even if the only thing I could bring Him was my small, scared, murmuring heart, He responded in mercy.
He reminded me that He is still sending manna for me to gather, in order that He might prove me (Ex. 16:4).
In "The Hiding Place," Corrie ten Boom shares an experience with forgiveness, and one of her statements has stayed with me for years. "Forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling," she teaches, and then, in her story, she describes making the decision to act as if she had forgiven an adversary, only to be filled with the feeling of genuine love and forgiveness that followed her faith-filled choice.
As I went through a coaching session only a week after learning of my son's diabetes, this experience kept coming to my mind, reminding me that if forgiveness was a choice, then gratitude was a choice, as well.
I felt prompted to express gratitude for diabetes, and I'll have you know, I fought the idea. Hard.
How in the world could I possibly be grateful for diabetes?
This disease has taken so much from me, my family, from my children.
I could write books on endless sleepless nights of pain and grief, wiping out vomit-coated mouths of nauseated kids, pricking fingers by light of a shaking flashlight, force-feeding frosting or juice to incoherent children with clamped-shut mouths, giving shot after shot after shot, and wrestling with technology I never wanted to have to figure out.
Diabetes has taken so much, I thought, it would be a betrayal to be grateful for it.
But, whispered the Voice that I've learned to recognize and listen to, even when I don't like what I'm hearing, what if you were to choose to express gratitude? What miracles could you see then?
So, I took a deep breath and did it. I said the words out loud:
"I'm grateful for diabetes. I'm grateful to have four children who have diabetes."
Immediately upon expressing those words, even though they didn't yet feel true, warmth rushed through my body, filling my eyes with tears and expanding my heart with pure joy and peace.
I knew that God saw my attempts to trust Him, to express even my imperfect gratitude to Him. He assured me that He accepted my offering and had miracles to grant me in return, the first and foremost miracle being His offering of an open, living, warm heart in exchange for the small, hard, scared heart I offered Him initially.
Which, honestly, has been the greatest miracle of all, because it's allowed me to see and recognize every miracle that's followed.
Dear Reader, I know you've experienced miracles in your life. Maybe they're fresh, or maybe they're a bit dusty, hidden away in the old journals of history. Maybe you believe in miracles for yourself, or maybe you believe that miracles are what happens for others.
But I testify of the reality of miracles, and I also testify that sometimes, they come in response to even the smallest acts of faith.
Like choosing gratitude before feeling it, even in the midst of unwanted circumstances.
God is proving me, but even more importantly, He wants me to prove Him.
And every time I do, miracles follow.
