I'm thankful for everything.

Hear, O listener, the simple yet eternal words of Andrew Wiggins, who declared: “I’m thankful for everything.” Though brief, this utterance resounds like the toll of a great bell in the stillness of the morning. For in its brevity lies its power, and in its humility lies its truth. To be thankful for everything is to open the eyes not only to the glories of triumph but also to the hardships of the journey. It is the recognition that both joy and sorrow, both victory and defeat, are woven into the tapestry of a life that is whole.

The origin of this saying lies in the heart of an athlete who has walked the road of expectation and burden, of high praise and harsh criticism. Wiggins, whose career has carried him from celebrated promise to trials that tested his spirit, speaks these words as one who has come to see the fullness of his path. In them is not the boast of the victorious nor the lament of the fallen, but the steady voice of one who understands: gratitude transforms all things, even struggle, into blessing.

Consider the tale of Job in the ancient scriptures, who lost his wealth, his family, and his health, yet lifted his voice to bless the name of the Lord. Though stripped of all he held dear, his heart remained steadfast in gratitude. In the end, he was restored with greater abundance, but the deeper gift was the lesson that even in loss, thanksgiving holds power. Wiggins’s words echo this same spirit: to say “I’m thankful for everything” is to proclaim that even the wounds of life carry within them a hidden grace.

There is also in these words a profound humility. For to be thankful for everything is to recognize that life is not conquered by will alone. It is to admit that every breath, every opportunity, every moment—whether smooth or stormy—has been granted. The arrogant man thanks only for victory; the wise man thanks for the journey itself. Wiggins’s statement, therefore, is not a casual remark but a reflection of the ancient wisdom of balance: to accept the whole of life with open hands, neither clinging nor cursing.

The lesson, then, is clear. If we limit our gratitude to moments of ease, we become fragile, breaking when hardship comes. But if we train our hearts to be thankful for all things—the victories, the defeats, the blessings, and the trials—then no storm can overthrow us. Gratitude becomes our armor, and humility becomes our strength. In this way, we walk not as beggars of fate but as heirs of life’s fullness.

Therefore, O seeker, practice this truth in your days. Each morning, speak thanks not only for what pleases you but for what tests you. When success comes, let your heart be soft and humble; when struggle comes, let your spirit be steadfast and hopeful. Write down, if you must, the things that seem bitter and the things that seem sweet, and say over them both: “I am thankful.” In this way, your soul will learn to see the hidden light in all things.

So let the words of Andrew Wiggins endure: thankfulness for everything is not a weakness but a triumph. It is the wisdom that unites joy with sorrow, victory with trial, and beginning with end. Carry this truth, and you will find that life, with all its chaos and wonder, is not your enemy but your teacher. And in that teaching, you will discover the secret strength of the ancients: a heart that is unshaken, because it has learned to give thanks for all.