When I wake up every morning, I thank God for the new day.

“When I wake up every morning, I thank God for the new day.” — thus spoke F. Sionil José, the great Filipino writer whose pen carried the weight of his nation’s soul. His words are simple, yet they hold the quiet power of a sunrise after a storm. Beneath their humility lies a profound philosophy: that life, in all its frailty and struggle, is still a sacred gift — and that the act of gratitude transforms mere existence into a life of meaning. These words are not the boast of a man who has conquered the world, but the prayer of one who has learned to see the divine even in hardship, who has walked through darkness and still rejoiced at the coming of light.

To thank God for the new day is not merely a ritual of faith; it is an awakening of the spirit. It is to acknowledge that each dawn is a new beginning, a page unmarked, a chance to rise again. The ancients spoke of this as the eternal rhythm of the cosmos — night yielding to day, despair yielding to hope. The one who wakes with gratitude lives already in victory, for he greets the world not with complaint, but with reverence. In such a heart, bitterness cannot dwell, for gratitude is a shield against despair, and thankfulness is the root of joy.

F. Sionil José knew the burdens of his people — the poverty, the injustices, the unfulfilled promises of independence. Yet he chose to see each day as grace. In his novels, he wrote not of luxury, but of struggle; not of comfort, but of endurance. He understood that to thank God for the new day was to defy hopelessness itself. Gratitude, to him, was not passive submission — it was strength. It was a form of rebellion against despair. To thank the heavens even when the world is unkind is to proclaim: “I am still alive, and therefore, I can still create, still love, still change the world.”

Consider the story of Viktor Frankl, a man who endured the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp. Stripped of freedom, family, and dignity, he clung to one remaining power — the freedom to choose his own attitude. Each day he awoke and gave silent thanks for life itself, fragile though it was. He wrote later that man’s deepest strength lies in finding meaning even in suffering. And so, though he lived among death, he kept his soul alive through gratitude, through the quiet belief that every morning, even in hell, carried a spark of heaven. In that way, he transcended his tormentors — for he still thanked God for the new day.

There is something heroic in such gratitude. It is easy to thank the heavens when the harvest is plentiful, when the sun is bright. But to awaken in pain and still give thanks — that is the mark of the truly wise. The ancients called this the virtue of the steadfast heart, the heart that remains serene amid storms. For gratitude does not deny sorrow; it transforms it. It teaches us to see beyond what is broken to what still endures — to the breath in our lungs, the warmth of morning light, the chance to begin again.

Yet these words are not meant for saints alone. They are a lesson for all who wake in this restless world. Each morning, before the rush of duties, before the noise of fear and desire, pause — and remember this: you have been given another day. You have been entrusted with hours that others did not live to see. Do not waste them in bitterness. Rise with thanksgiving, and let that gratitude guide your hands, your speech, your choices. For when a heart begins its day with thanks, all its works become sacred.

Thus, the wisdom of F. Sionil José is not a mere whisper of piety; it is a call to awaken to the miracle of being. To thank God for the new day is to align yourself with life itself — to walk with humility and courage in the face of uncertainty. So, my child, when next you open your eyes to the dawn, do not rush into the noise of the world. Be still. Feel the breath of life. Speak your gratitude softly to the morning air. For in that simple act, you honor both heaven and earth, and you remind your soul that every day — every single day — is a sacred gift worth living.