I have a lot to be thankful for. I am healthy, happy and I am

The words of Reba McEntire, “I have a lot to be thankful for. I am healthy, happy and I am loved,” echo like an ancient hymn of gratitude, sung from the heart of one who has endured storms and still chooses to lift her eyes to the heavens. They are not spoken lightly, for such words are born of reflection, and reflection comes only when one has looked into both the brightness of triumph and the shadow of loss. In her statement lies the essence of human fulfillment: to recognize that wealth is not in gold nor crowns, but in the treasures of health, happiness, and love.

The ancients knew well that to live without sickness, to awaken each dawn in strength, is a gift beyond price. They praised the body as the vessel of the soul, and those who tended to it with care were honored. In Reba’s declaration of health, we hear the timeless reminder that vigor and breath are not promised but granted. It is the strong foundation upon which all other joys rest. Without health, happiness fades, and love is burdened with sorrow; with it, even the humblest life is rich.

To be happy, as Reba proclaims, is a triumph more difficult than victory in battle. For the warriors of old, conquest of others was less arduous than conquest of the self. Happiness is the harmony of the soul, an inner light that shines not because of fortune but despite its fickleness. The Stoic Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher, taught that happiness rests not in what befalls us, but in how we meet it. He bore the weight of empire and the grief of loss, yet wrote words of peace. So too does Reba’s voice carry the truth: joy is not the absence of trials, but the presence of gratitude within them.

And then comes the crown of her words: love. To be loved is to be held in the circle of life’s greatest blessing. The ancients told stories of warriors who endured hunger, storms, and exile — not for glory, but for those they cherished. Consider the tale of Odysseus, who wandered ten years after the fall of Troy. Though kings and goddesses tempted him, though seas and monsters stood against him, his heart longed only for his wife, Penelope, and the love of home. It was love that gave him strength to return. In Reba’s truth, we see that love, whether from family, friends, or companions of the heart, is the anchor that steadies us when the tempests of life arise.

From her words emerges a teaching for all generations: do not seek endlessly for treasures that rust and fade. Instead, open your eyes to the blessings already present. The modern world urges us to hunger for more, to never be satisfied, to compare ourselves against endless measures. Yet the wisdom of gratitude cuts through the noise: to be alive in health, to know happiness within, to be loved by even one soul — this is abundance beyond measure.

So what shall we, who hear this teaching, do? Begin each dawn with thanksgiving. Speak aloud the blessings you possess — even if small, even if fragile. Guard your health by treating your body with respect: nourish it, rest it, strengthen it. Cultivate happiness by choosing contentment over endless desire, by seeking beauty in ordinary days. And cherish love by tending the bonds of family and friendship, speaking gratitude before the moment passes, and giving affection as freely as you wish to receive it.

The lesson is as old as time: gratitude transforms life. One may be poor in coin yet rich in spirit, if only they remember to give thanks. Reba McEntire, like a singer in the halls of the ancients, lifts her voice to remind us of this eternal truth. Let her words be not merely heard, but practiced. And let each one of us, before the close of day, be able to say with honesty: “I too have much to be thankful for. I too am healthy, happy, and loved.”