Grati-Dude Diaries: Episode 19

The Cost of Running and the Gift of Staying

You’re reading The Grati-Dude Diaries — a weekly companion for practicing gratitude in new, personal, and creative ways. Thanks for stopping by.

Before we dive into this week’s episode, a couple quick notes:

If you missed Episode 18, take a moment to read Meridith’s story. It’s our most-read piece—and once you read it, you’ll see why.

Also, The Diaries are now twice a week! In addition to Saturday reflections, you’ll now get a Wednesday devotional designed to help you slow down and engage Scripture through drawing, writing, and imagination. If you missed the first one, you can catch up [here].

Now, let’s keep the conversation going on contentment.

Something funny happens when you reach your mid-forties.

You realize just how big the world is—and at the same time, it feels like it’s shrunk.
Instead of assuming there’s always more time, you start to wonder how much is left.

It sounds bad.

Even as I type, I can feel my body language shift and a weight come over me.
But trust me, it’s good.

My perspective began to shift when my icons started to die.
Sports heroes, lead singers, actors I remember from childhood. It was a gentle reminder that I’m not getting any younger.

Then it hit closer to home—cancer in someone I cared about, a car accident that took a friend, a dementia diagnosis for my father.
Life doesn’t play favorites. And the older we get, the more pain we experience.

We can ask why. We can shake our fists at the sky. (I’ve done both.)

But in the middle of the grief, the aging, the questions—we still get to choose how we respond.
We can put our head down and power through.
“This too shall pass,” we say.

Or we can pause, sit down in the middle of it, and take time to wrestle with our feelings.

This is what I discovered sitting in a memory care facility watching my father struggle to remember my name.

In the same year I watched two fraternity brothers (both my age) lose battles to cancer and alcoholism.

Standard operating procedure told me not to sit with these losses, but to rush through.

But the last time I visited my Dad, I knew that was no longer an option.

I’ve wasted too many moments and I don’t know how many I’ll have left.

I stopped running.

I sat with him, looked into his eyes, held his hand, and told him how much I loved him. I told him he was a good Dad.

I still have moments where I wonder why he has to go through this. Why won’t God just take him?

But I’ve stopped letting those feelings rob me of the opportunity to be present with him.

There is a special feeling when you sit with someone you looked up to your entire life, whose body is a shell of what it used to be and can still feel their immense love.

Gripping his weathered hands and staring into the same kind eyes I remember from childhood, I stumbled upon something I’ve been searching for without knowing it.

Contentment.

I’m not talking about the cheap kind that pretends everything is fine.

This is deep and I can feel it in my soul.

It’s making me realize that this moment is enough.

That love, even when it’s filtered through dementia, is enough.

The time we have left, however brief, is enough.

Paul wrote that he had learned to be content in all circumstances—in plenty and in want, in comfort and in suffering. The word “learned” strikes me. Contentment isn’t a natural state; it’s a discipline, a practice we return to again and again.

Contentment, I discovered, doesn’t depend on our circumstances; it depends on recognizing that we already have what we need—even when what we need isn’t what we want.

This is what gave Paul the confidence to sing praises while chained in prison. This is what allows me to find gratitude in a memory care facility. Not because the situation is good, but because God’s presence in it is enough.

Maybe that’s why these middle years feel so intense—we’re finally old enough to understand what we’re learning, but young enough to have to keep learning it. And even when you think you’ve grasped it, you realize you’re never done.

It’s not a lesson you master—it’s one you return to again and again.

Even in the hardest seasons, there are moments of grace waiting to be noticed. But only if we stop long enough to see them.

So as I dive deeper into this topic, I’m not going to predict where this journey will lead. I’ll follow the truth wherever it takes me, trusting that the path itself has something to teach.

Next week we’ll explore Jeremiah Burroughs definition of contentment and break it down piece by piece:

“Christian contentment is that sweet, inward, quiet, gracious frame of spirit, which freely submits to and delights in God’s wise and fatherly disposal in every condition.”— Jeremiah Burroughs

If this is your first week here, thank you for taking the time to stop by. You probably figured it out from reading, but I’m not a trained theologian. I’m a middle-aged father and husband who is trying to follow Jesus the best way I know how. These rambling thoughts are part of my process.

My hope is to create a community where we can process and learn together. You can join in the conversation by leaving a comment below.

One last thing before I go.

This week as I wrestled with my feelings, I read more of “The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment” by Jeremiah Burroughs. Since it’s 400 years old I occasionally need help deciphering some of the text. Naturally, I asked ChatGPT to create a dialogue between myself and Mr. Burroughs.

It turns out he is a delightful guy and I’m enjoying our conversations. He said something so powerful this week that I decided to turn it into a Grati-Square. Below you will find his quote and the inspired drawing.

“When I speak of grace that spreads itself, I mean that true contentment is not a small or segmented virtue, dwelling in one corner of the soul while the rest remains disordered. No, when God works contentment in the heart, He doth not plant it like a single flower in one patch of ground, but like a sweet-smelling vine that climbs over every wall and spreads itself through all the faculties of the inner man.”

See you Wednesday,
Jason (The Grati-Dude)

“Make gratitude a daily habit and watch the ripple effect it has on your life.”

P.S. I can’t let this week pass without wishing my wife a Happy Birthday! I am filled with gratitude that I get to share this life with you. I love you!

P.P.S. This is also my way of seeing if she reads the entire post 😃