In early Spring 2015 I faced a life-changing decision. I occupied a hospital bed in St. Mary’s Hospital, a Mayo Clinic facility, in Rochester, MN. About a week and a half prior, I had contracted necrotizing fasciitis (flesh-eating bacteria) from a tiny scratch on my right hand.

I had recently run a Pi-Day race (3.14 miles) in 19:29, not bad for a 40-year-old husband and father of three. As I crossed the finish line, the last thing I imagined was that I would soon nearly die, have a major portion of my skin removed, need a flap of skin transferred from my left thigh to my right hand and forearm (which would also require the removal of a quadricep muscle due to the size of the wound), and incur about $1,000,000 in medical bills. For a superhero fan, it’s a solid origin story. Levity aside, my life would never be the same. No matter what I did, who I knew, how much money I made, I would forever be physically scarred. My reaction to the situation would determine the extent of the emotional scarring. One day while talking with Becky, my wife, about what had been happening the last couple weeks since my hospitalization, she told me about how our family, friends (and even strangers) stepped up to help us in our time of need:

neighbors removing snow from our driveway and sidewalk; colleagues dropped off toys and games to our kids while they all stayed at Becky’s parents;a high school friend of Becky’s started a GoFundMe account where absolute strangers donated hundreds of dollarsI was so overwhelmed by these displays of love and kindness that I developed what I now call The Attitude of Gratitude (TAG). I started actively looking for things to be thankful for. I habitually let people know why I appreciated them. I performed acts of kindness on a daily basis to give others a reason to be grateful.