It was one of those mornings when the day had barely begun, yet my mind was caught in a long list of worries and what-ifs.
“What if this happens? What if that goes wrong? What if I am not able to handle it?”
I felt myself like a computer with too many programs running at once in my mind. The day passed, but my thoughts remained caught between regrets about the past and fears about the future. Somewhere in the middle of all that thinking, I began to notice something: I had forgotten to be grateful. I had been so focused on what could go wrong that I had stopped noticing what was already going right. That made me wonder: “Could gratitude be something we learn to practice, rather than something we only feel when life is going well?” Science tells us that the human brain is capable of change. The patterns we repeatedly focus on can become more familiar to our minds. When we constantly dwell on fear, comparison, stress, or negative thoughts, it becomes easier for our minds to return to those patterns. But when we deliberately turn our attention towards what is good and meaningful, we can begin to develop different ways of thinking. And this is where I found something beautiful in Islam.
Shukr is much more than saying “Alhamdulillah” when something good happens. It is a way of looking at life. It is choosing to recognize Allah’s blessings even when everything around us is not going according to our plans. I did not fully understand this through a book or a lecture. I learned it through loss. Almost eleven years ago, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. The disease had spread to several organs and eventually reached her bones. For a year and a half, my family and I watched her battle the illness. Watching someone you love suffer is a kind of pain that is difficult to put into words. Then, one day, she passed away. Our world felt shattered. The future suddenly looked dark, and the pain seemed impossible to carry. There were no words that could make that moment easier.
And then, in the middle of that unbearable grief, my elder brother said something that changed the way I looked at pain. He said: “Shukr, Ya Allah.” Those words shook me. How could someone say Shukr at a moment like this?
At that time, I could not fully understand it. We were grieving. We were hurting. We had just lost someone we loved deeply. But somehow, those two words brought a strange and indescribable peace to my heart. Slowly, I began to understand that gratitude did not mean denying our pain. It did not mean pretending that everything was fine. It meant that even while our hearts were breaking, we could still turn towards Allah.
We could grieve and still trust Him. We could hurt and still say “Alhamdulillah”. We could not understand His decree and still believe that His wisdom was greater than our understanding. That experience changed the way I understood gratitude. Years later, I realized that this lesson was already deeply rooted in the life of the Prophet Muhammad صلى الله عليه وسلم.
Hit by a wave of devastating losses, the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم endured the Ām al-Ḥuzn (Year of Sorrow) with patience and gratitude. He lost his beloved wife Khadijah (RA), his protective uncle Abu Talib, and was left with a very little sense of safety in Makkah. When he turned to Ta’if for hope, they answered with stones and bitter cruelty. Yet, rising above the blood, tears, and overwhelming hostility, he uttered words that define ultimate devotion: “I care not, as long as You are not angry with me.”
His life reminds us that faith does not mean that a person never feels sadness. The Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم experienced grief, pain, and hardship. Yet his relationship with Allah remained firm. He continued with patience, trust, and perseverance. This is an important part of understanding gratitude. Shukr does not require a life without hardship. Sometimes, gratitude means recognizing Allah’s blessings while we are still in the middle of a storm.
In Quran, Allah promised, “If you are grateful, I will surely increase you.” (Qur’an 14:7)
We often think of this increase as more money, possessions, opportunities, or worldly success. But perhaps some of the most beautiful forms of increase cannot be measured at all.The increase may be in the peace of the heart.
In the ability to cope.
In patience.
In clarity.
In our ability to see blessings that we once took for granted.
Gratitude does not tell us to ignore our struggles. It teaches us not to let our struggles become the only thing we see.
We can hold two truths in our hearts at the same time:
“Yes, I am hurting.”
And
“Yes, I still have blessings.”
Both can be true. The difficulty can exist without becoming our entire identity. The pain can exist without taking away every reason to say Alhamdulillah.
Perhaps this is where the idea of rewiring with gratitude begins.
Every day, our minds are being shaped by what we repeatedly notice and think about. If we constantly tell ourselves, “I don’t have enough,” our attention naturally begins searching for what is missing. But when we begin asking:
“What has Allah already given me?”
“What difficulty has taught me something?”
“What do I still have to be thankful for?”
Our attention begins to move in a different direction. The circumstances may not change immediately. But our perspective can. And sometimes, changing our perspective changes the way we experience the circumstances.
From “I don’t have enough” to “Allah has given me so much.”
From fear to trust.
From comparison to contentment.
From scarcity to sufficiency.
From constantly asking, “What am I missing?” to quietly noticing, “Look at how much Allah has already given me.”
Gratitude may not be about changing everything around us. But it is about changing what we repeatedly choose to see.
And that is what it means to rewire with gratitude – not to erase the difficult parts of our story, but to train our hearts to see Allah’s blessings even within them.
Because sometimes, the storm does not disappear.
We simply learn how to stand differently in it.
Warm regards,
Nimra Ayub