I asked myself a question last week that stopped me cold: “Why am I not showing enough gratitude to Allah?”
Then an ayah from Surah Al-Mulk came to mind. Just three words that hit like a gentle slap: “Little are you grateful.”
And I couldn’t look away from it.
So I started watching. Observing. Recalling.
First myself. Then others around me.
And I saw the pattern everywhere.
We push through one challenge after another. Climb one hurdle, then immediately set our eyes on the next mountain. It’s constant. Relentless even.
You’d think that when we finally clear a hurdle—when we get that job, pass that test, heal from that illness—we’d pause. We’d feel it. We’d show gratitude to Allah.
Some of us do. For a day. Maybe two.
Some extend it with a prayer. Some stand a little longer in salah.
For a week if we’re really moved.
Then life happens. A new challenge arrives. And gratitude? It fades into the background like yesterday’s news.
This isn’t just an adult thing.
Watch a child. They want that toy desperately. They get it. Joy erupts. For an hour. Then they want the next thing.
Watch a teenager. Desperate for that grade, that acceptance, that freedom. They get it. Relief floods in. Briefly. Then the next pressure arrives.
An entrepreneur lands their first client—the one they couldn’t believe they’d ever get in this crowded, saturated market. The one they were desperate for.
Do they pause in gratitude?
No. They’re immediately restless for the next five clients.
Someone finally gets the job they’ve been chasing. You’d expect relief. Peace.
Instead? Their attention shifts instantly to climbing the ladder. Impatient. Restless.
Watch us as mature adults. As elderly people. The pattern doesn’t change. The stakes get higher. The challenges grow different. But the cycle?
Identical.
And here’s what this cycle creates:
Restlessness. Incompleteness. A heart that never settles.
No wonder this generation depends on medication for stress. No wonder we can’t find peace.
We’re chasing the next thing before we’ve absorbed the blessing of what we just received.
And through it all, Allah keeps reminding us—if we spend time with the Quran—to be grateful. To show gratitude. Not just once. Not just when things are perfect.
Constantly.
But here’s what I realized about myself, about all of us:
There’s always an excuse.
A l w a y s.
“I’ll be more grateful when things settle down.”
“I’ll pray longer when I’m less busy.”
“I’ll spend more time with Quran when this project is done.”
“I’ll show gratitude properly when I have more energy.”
The excuses are infinite. They follow us through every season of life. They’re so reasonable, so understandable, so… human.
But they keep us in the waiting room of gratitude.
And they rob us of something essential:
Peace.
Real peace. The kind that lives in your heart. The kind that makes you feel complete even when life isn’t perfect.
Because here’s the truth: when you instill the habit of gratitude, something shifts inside you. You feel peaceful. Complete. Not because you have everything.
Because you can see what you have.
And Allah asks us, gently: “Little are you grateful.”
Not as condemnation.
As an invitation.
To notice what’s already here. To pause in the middle of the climb. To let gratitude live alongside our struggles, not after them.
To find the peace we’ve been chasing in all the wrong places.
I can’t tell you how this looks for you. Your path is yours. Your relationship with Allah is between you and Him.
Maybe you’ll start today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’re already on this journey and just needed the reminder.
But somewhere between the hurdles, between the excuses, between the endless chase—
There’s space for gratitude.
And in that space?
Peace.
“Little are you grateful.”
What if we were more?
