There are songs that find their way into your soul before you even understand what they’re saying. "Be Thankful For What You Got" by William DeVaughn is one of those songs, the kind that anchors you in a moment, a time, and a place—before you’ve fully figured out who you are. I first heard it as a child, growing up in a city that was split between what felt like palatial estates and dilapidated apartment buildings. My elementary school was a strange and confusing world—full of children who wore things I couldn’t pronounce and lived in the kind of houses I couldn’t fathom. But DeVaughn’s voice? His voice felt like it belonged to me. That calm, gentle wisdom mixed with an unshakable truth: the real wealth lies not in things, but in how you choose to live with what you have.
It’s funny, because this song—this simple, elegant anthem—spoke to me like an older cousin, one who’d seen the world and knew better than to make a fuss about what was out of reach. There’s a softness in DeVaughn’s delivery, a quiet reverence that doesn't scream for attention but demands it in the way a trusted friend does. His voice doesn’t just fill the room; it fills the heart, slow and steady, like the dawn creeping over a landscape you hadn’t quite noticed was beautiful before.
And then the music itself. It’s a velvet rope that pulls you gently but insistently into the groove, a rhythm section that feels like breathing in sync with the universe. There’s a warmth in the organ, a smoothness in the guitar fills, and a shuffling beat that makes you feel like you’re floating just above the ground. The sound of "Be Thankful For What You Got" is as comforting as it is empowering—like the sound of joy when it hasn’t been corrupted by the weight of want. It’s funky, yes, but it’s more than that—it’s grounded, rich in soul, and rich in the kind of love that doesn’t make a show of itself. It is the show.
Maria Popova once wrote that “gratitude is the antidote to the tyranny of what we don’t have,” and that could be the thesis of this song, too. DeVaughn’s lyrics speak to that deep, almost spiritual understanding that we spend too much of our lives looking beyond what’s in front of us, chasing after things we’ll never truly own. He doesn’t admonish us for wanting more, but instead invites us to recognize the wealth we already possess, the things we can so easily overlook—the small victories, the steady love, the song of the birds in the trees, the steady beat of your own heart. If you pause long enough, you realize that the things that truly matter are not only the things you can touch, but the things that touch you.
And yet, it’s not about resignation or passivity. DeVaughn’s song doesn’t tell you to settle. It doesn’t tell you to stop striving. Instead, it reminds you to dance while you’re doing it. It invites you to put on your dancin’ shoes, funk it up, and rejoice in the fact that you’re alive enough to feel the groove. What’s on the outside is fleeting; what’s inside, and what you choose to do with it, that stuff is eternal.
So, as the year winds down, and the holiday season sweeps through with its mix of joy and reflection, take a moment with this song. Whether you're walking through wealth or through struggle, put on your dancing shoes. Turn up the volume. Let the lyrics hit you where you live, let the bass thump in your chest, and let the message sink in: If you have love and music, you are the richest person in the world.
