Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that thankfulness is

The words of William Bennett fall like a gentle admonition, yet they carry the weight of eternal wisdom: “Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that thankfulness is indeed a virtue.” In our restless age, where desire races ahead of contentment and voices cry for more, gratitude is too easily forgotten. But Bennett’s reminder echoes the teaching of sages across the centuries: that thankfulness is not mere courtesy, not a fleeting sentiment, but a noble strength, a discipline of the soul, a virtue that ennobles those who practice it.

To call thankfulness a virtue is to place it among the highest qualities of character—alongside courage, justice, and wisdom. It is not accidental, not natural to all, but cultivated, chosen, and lived. The proud heart believes all blessings are deserved, and thus never gives thanks. The shallow heart sees only what is lacking, and thus remains blind to abundance. But the virtuous heart pauses, remembers, and honors the giver—whether man or God—with a spirit of gratitude. In this way, thankfulness purifies the soul, guarding it against envy, bitterness, and despair.

History offers us the example of George Washington. In the midst of the Revolutionary War, when the colonies were poor and uncertain, he declared days of public thanksgiving, urging his weary people to lift their eyes and give thanks even in scarcity. Later, as the first president of the United States, he proclaimed the first national day of Thanksgiving, calling the people not to celebrate abundance alone, but to recognize the hand of Providence in their very survival. Washington knew that thankfulness was not weakness but strength, not a luxury but a foundation for a free and enduring nation.

The ancients too held this wisdom. Cicero, the Roman orator, declared that gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues but the parent of all others. For without it, courage becomes arrogance, wisdom becomes pride, and justice becomes cold. Only gratitude softens strength, humbles wisdom, and warms justice with compassion. Thus, Bennett’s reminder is not new but ancient—an echo of truths spoken around firesides, in temples, and in the scrolls of philosophers.

Yet in our age, we must remind ourselves of it again and again. For we live in a world where speed blinds us, where abundance numbs us, where we take blessings for granted until they are gone. That is why Bennett speaks of remembrance: sometimes we need to remind ourselves. Virtues are not self-sustaining; they must be rehearsed, practiced, spoken aloud, and taught to children. A man may forget courage in times of peace, and a nation may forget thankfulness in times of prosperity. But those who forget virtues soon find themselves weak when trials return.

The lesson is clear: we must practice thankfulness not as a passing mood but as a steady discipline. Speak words of thanks daily—to God, to loved ones, to strangers who serve unnoticed. Keep a record of blessings, so that in dark hours you may remember the light. Teach children to say “thank you” not only with lips but with hearts that see the gift behind the giver. In this way, gratitude becomes more than habit—it becomes the shaping of character, the forging of virtue.

Practically, let us set aside moments in every day to pause and remember. At dawn, give thanks for breath; at evening, give thanks for the day’s mercies. When hardship comes, search for even the smallest reason for gratitude, for it is often in trial that thankfulness becomes the most heroic of virtues. And when abundance comes, let us not forget, but give thanks all the more fervently, lest we grow proud and blind.

Thus, Bennett’s words echo across the generations: thankfulness is a virtue. It is strength, not frailty; discipline, not accident. It is the soil in which joy grows, the armor against bitterness, the fountain of peace. Let us remember, let us teach, and let us live in thankfulness, so that our lives may be noble, our hearts humble, and our days filled with light.