The Trail
When I traveled to Antarctica, I wanted the full experience.
And by “full experience,” I mean I wanted to participate in every Basecamp activity built into the price.
I paid for it. I wanted my money’s worth. 😆
One of the activities I was especially excited about was beginner mountaineering.
Unfortunately, when it was time to prepare, the safety harness couldn’t close properly around my body over my cold-weather gear.
That meant I couldn’t participate.
For safety reasons.
I understood why.
I was still devastated.
I went back to my cabin and cried.
Sometimes disappointment is simply disappointing. We don’t have to immediately turn it into an inspirational lesson while we’re still experiencing it.
I had traveled all the way to Antarctica. I wanted to try something I’d imagined myself doing there, and now I couldn’t.
But after crying, I had another realization.
This might be a once-in-a-lifetime trip.
Did I really want to spend it inside my cabin thinking about the one thing I couldn’t do?
No.
So eventually, I went back outside.
And there was still so much available to me.
I kayaked among enormous icebergs around Pléneau Bay. During one excursion, a whale surfaced incredibly close to my kayak.
I didn’t have my camera ready.
For a moment like that?!
Of course not. 😆
I don’t have the photograph.
I have the memory.
I camped beneath a sky with almost no light pollution and stared at stars that seemed close enough to reach.
I saw wildlife in its natural habitat.
I explored icebergs.
I hiked along the Antarctic shoreline.
And then there was the penguin.
While I was on the Antarctic Peninsula, a curious penguin walked directly toward me and became fascinated with the zipper pull on my parka.
I couldn’t approach the wildlife, so I stayed where I was and let the penguin conduct whatever extremely important zipper investigation it apparently needed to complete. 😆
It hung around long enough for me to get a photograph.
For what felt like several minutes, I had a tiny Antarctic companion.
And somehow, after everything I’d planned for that trip, that became one of my favorite moments.
I couldn’t have scheduled it.
I couldn’t have purchased it as an excursion.
It wasn’t one of the activities I was determined to get my money’s worth from. 😂
I simply had to be outside to experience it.
What I Carried Home
I don’t think gratitude requires us to pretend disappointment doesn’t hurt.
I wanted to go mountaineering.
I couldn’t.
I cried because I was disappointed.
That belonged in the experience too.
What mattered was what happened next.
Eventually, I became willing to notice what was still available.
That’s different from pretending what I lost didn’t matter.
I didn’t need to convince myself that kayaking was “better” than mountaineering or that the penguin encounter happened specifically to compensate for something else.
I could simply receive those experiences with gratitude.
That’s something I’ve come to appreciate more deeply over time.
Disappointment can narrow our attention toward what didn’t happen.
Sometimes gratitude helps us widen it again.
Not by denying what hurts.
By reminding us that what hurts may not be the only thing present.
Had I stayed in my cabin, I would have been completely justified in feeling disappointed.
I also would have missed what was waiting outside.
I couldn’t control the experience that was no longer available to me.
I could decide whether I remained available to the rest of the experience.
And I’m very glad I did.
Trail Notes
Think about a time something you genuinely wanted became unavailable to you.
Did disappointment make it difficult to notice what remained?
What were you grieving?
Did you give yourself permission to actually feel that disappointment?
And when you were ready, what else was still available?
This doesn’t have to mean finding something “better.”
Maybe it was simply something different.
Something worth noticing.
Something worth receiving.
Scripture for the Journey
“This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”
— Psalm 118:24
Some days contain things we would never have chosen.
That doesn’t mean we have to manufacture gladness about what hurts. We can remain attentive to the good that is genuinely present too.
Take This With You
You don’t have to rush past disappointment.
Let yourself acknowledge what you wanted.
Let yourself acknowledge that it hurts when you don’t get it.
And when you’re ready, look around.
What is still available to you?
Sometimes gratitude doesn’t change what happened.
It simply helps us notice that disappointment isn’t the only thing happening.
And every once in a while, going back outside leads to an eight-minute friendship with a penguin who really likes your zipper. 😆
