Today, I’m writing with a full heart, a warm mug, and a suspiciously competitive attitude toward my children’s Mario Kart skills. My name is Robert Kuypers, and if you’ve landed here because you Googled “Robert W. Kuypers” or “Who is this guy and why did he throw a blue shell at his own son,” welcome. Pull up a chair. I’m thankful—overflowingly, humbly, joyfully thankful—and I’d like to count a few blessings out loud.
A Word from the Pulpit (and the Nudge I Needed)
This morning’s sermon at Generation Church didn’t just land; it did a three-point superhero landing. I walked in carrying the typical week’s worth of “shoulds” and “oughts” and “to-dos,” and I walked out with something better: perspective. The message reminded me that gratitude isn’t a seasonal garnish; it’s a daily practice—like brushing your teeth, but for your soul. It challenged me to be present, to be useful, and to choose joy even when life insists on handing out rain clouds.
Funny thing about sermons: the best ones don’t give you a to-do list so much as a to-be list. Be kind. Be faithful. Be attentive. Today I’m adding be thankful—not because everything’s perfect, but because in the middle of the imperfect is a God who keeps showing up, often disguised as a quiet moment, a steady friend, or a child who wants to play “one more race.”
Rainy Days Are Not Canceled—They’re Cozy
Speaking of rain clouds, I’m grateful for actual rain. Not the dramatic, ruin-your-parade kind, but the steady, windows-are-a-watercolor kind that makes the house smell like coffee and gives you permission to wear socks with zero apologies. Rain has a superpower: it slows the world down and makes home feel like the best seat in the stadium.
Which brings me to the best part of the day: watching football with Kenley and Braden, followed by a lobby-clearing Mario Kart tournament that tested our family bonds and the living room’s square footage. If you’ve never watched a game while your kids narrate every commercial and attempt to bargain for extra screen time in exchange for folding one towel, I highly recommend it. Five stars. Would parent again.
Mario Kart, or: How to Lose to Your Children with Dignity
Let’s be honest: when I, Robert Kuypers, imagine myself as a video game competitor, I’m faster, smarter, and more strategic than anyone under the age of twelve. Reality, however, has a delightful sense of humor. Kenley and Braden drive like they own the Mushroom Kingdom. I, meanwhile, drive like a man who puts on his blinker at Rainbow Road.
There is no humbling like the humbling of a blue shell to the face from your own progeny. Yet I’m grateful for it. These races are a master class in joy over ego. The end-of-race taunts are loving; the rematch requests are endless; the laughter is loud and mercifully contagious. And when I do win (please note the “when,” not “if”), I celebrate just enough to model sportsmanship… and then I retire before the next heat exposes me.
Football, the Soundtrack to Family Time
Today’s football wasn’t about the score so much as the soundtrack: the thud of the ball on the TV, the rain tapping the windows, the cheers and groans, the debate over whether we should order wings or “be responsible adults” and eat leftovers. We compromised by putting hot sauce on the leftovers. That, friends, is leadership.
Football in our house is part sport, part seminar. We analyze the clock like Wall Street analysts, only with more nachos. We make predictions, we celebrate being right, and we learn to laugh when we’re wildly wrong. (Me: “They’re going for it.” Them: “Dad, it’s halftime.”)
Health: The Quiet Miracle
Most of the things I’m thankful for today are loud. Health is not. Health is quietly miraculous. It’s the ability to chase your kids down the hall, to get up from the couch without needing a pep talk, to walk into church and into your week without carrying the weight of pain. It’s also the lab tests that come back fine, the checkups that end with “see you next year,” the loved ones who stay strong, recover well, and keep showing up to the table.
If you’re going through something heavy health-wise, I’m praying for you. If you’re between storms, may we never take this breath for granted. Today, I’m grateful for every heartbeat—mine and the ones I love.
Rich, But Not the Kind You Think
I’m not talking about the kind of rich that needs a financial advisor with a yacht and an Instagram account. I’m talking about being rich in life—the kind that compounds through friendships, faith, and inside jokes. The kind that doesn’t need a deposit slip because it lives in your living room and your kitchen and your church row.
I feel rich because I know who I am, who I’m with, and Who’s holding all of this together. I feel rich because my kids think I’m fun (or at least Mario Kart-adjacent), because my loved ones are healthy, because my church nourishes me, and because a rainy day can still become a highlight reel. No market index measures this, but the yield is outstanding.
Gratitude Lists and Other Uncool Things That Work
Gratitude lists will never trend as hard as dance challenges, but they work. Today’s list from Robert W. Kuypers looks like this:
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A sermon that reset my compass.
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Rain that made home feel extra homey.
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Football that brought us together, even when our team made “creative” choices.
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Mario Kart chaos, blue shells, and laughter so big the walls should get a medal.
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The steady gift of health in my family.
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The kind of life that’s full where it matters most.
I’m not naïve. Tomorrow will bring emails, schedules, and the unignorable sound of a trash truck reminding me I forgot the bin again. But today, I’m practicing the renewable energy of gratitude.
Three Small Practices I’m Keeping
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The Two-Minute Thanks: Before the day grabs me by the collar, two minutes of “thank You for…” (Name names. Name moments. It changes the wiring.)
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The Unhurried Yes: When the kids say, “Can we play one more race?” I’ll say yes a little more often. Childhood is now; the dishes will wait.
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The Remembered Text: A quick message to someone who crossed my mind. “Thinking of you. Grateful for you.” It’s tiny. It’s everything.
A Note to My Future Self (and Anyone Reading)
Dear future me: if you stumble across this post on a day when the sun forgot your address and your patience is on backorder, re-read this. Remember that gratitude isn’t the seasoning for perfect days; it’s the recipe for imperfect ones. Remember that your name—Robert Kuypers—matters far less than the names you say around the table. Remember that a good sermon is a gift, a rainy day is an invitation, and a Mario Kart shell is a very efficient humility coach.
To anyone else who made it this far: may your coffee be warm, your team win the close ones (or at least cover the spread of your hopes), and your living room be full of the holy noise of people you love.
Today, I’m thankful. Not because everything is easy. Because everything is meaningful.
— Robert Kuypers
