I’ve spoken or heard the prayer at dinner on Thanksgiving Day so many times that I can recite it in my sleep. It’s always the same. We thank God for “all the blessings of this life” and then mention specifically our country and the freedoms we enjoy, our family and guests, the food, and the cook. Then everyone eats and watches football. Prayer isn’t thought of again.

And that’s OK. I don’t think President Lincoln, who created Thanksgiving, intended us to spend the whole day on our knees reading from our prayer books.

But I’ve been thinking about that prayer and what it includes — or rather, what it omits. We thank God only for happy things.

If we’re serious about giving thanks for “all the blessings of this life,” though, we should include unhappy things as well. Maybe we should start even with them. Here are a few things that look at first like misfortunes but are often blessings in disguise. Consider giving thanks for the following:

Failure. We learn far more from our failures than from our successes, though of course we enjoy the successes more. Failure forces us to think new thoughts, reconsider our priorities, try new approaches. Jesus failed in the eyes of the world, and then came the resurrection. But you must fall before you can rise again.

Richard Rohr has written a book called “Falling Upward.” He says that wisdom doesn’t begin until we fail, fall, botch it up, and embarrass ourselves. That’s why wisdom usually comes with age — young people haven’t had enough opportunities to fail. The word mature can mean either wise or advanced in years. The two nearly always arrive together.

Poverty. I’m not poor, so it may seem odd, even condescending, for me to give thanks for poverty. Lacking food and shelter is no blessing. But when I lived in Africa, I knew very poor people who were radiantly happy. Why are millions of Americans who are fabulously wealthy by African standards so discontented and angry? I think it’s because most of us waste our years chasing after and then clinging to empty, meaningless things. Just watch the ads on TV. Our wealth has seduced us into following a false God. Then we grow angry when our false God doesn’t deliver happiness.

I don’t want to live in a hut with a dirt floor, but my African friends taught me about poverty of spirit. It occurs when the soul is oriented toward what truly matters, and that’s not what most people think it is. It’s apparently easier to be poor in spirit if you’re also poor in things. The poor in spirit are the people Jesus mentioned first in the Beatitudes.

Weakness. It’s easier for the weak to learn dependence on God than for the strong. I learned to depend on God only when I confessed my helplessness in the face of a terrifying and nearly fatal addiction. Now I give thanks for that addiction because of what facing it taught me.

Doubt. Doubt has always dogged me. I have prayed that God remove doubts from my mind, but he does not choose to do so. I am therefore learning to thank God for them. When the treasure is hidden out of sight, there is fresh energy for the search and the treasure is all the lovelier when found.

Death. The process of dying can be grim, but death itself is a good and natural thing. If we lived forever, there would be no new mountains to climb, books to read, friendships to form, discoveries to make. Life would become a series of endless, meaningless repetitions. The fact that our years, experiences, and relationships are limited makes every one valuable and every choice significant.

And if no one died, the world would soon become so crowded with those who are already here that there would be no room for new people — a world without children. In such a world, though I couldn’t die, I’d want to.

So let us remember this Thanksgiving all the blessings of this life, including those we don’t usually count as blessings.

Richard H. Schmidt is a retired Episcopal priest, editor and author who lives in Fairhope. He can be reached at courier@gulfcoastnewspapers.com.