Last Friday, my barber asked me if we had big plans for Thanksgiving? Embarrassingly, I said that we really hadn't thought that far ahead. Our church hosted a Thanksgiving meal this past Sunday, and the General prepared a lot of food for that meal. Sunday's experience genuinely felt like Thanksgiving, and I checked off the box for Thanksgiving 2023.
Throughout my childhood, Thanksgiving was always a special event that included at least one set of grandparents and extended family members. It was always a larger group than our immediate family.
In my blog yesterday, I recounted the first Thanksgiving the General and I shared as husband and wife. It was a good experience to relive that memory inside my head. That memory prompted memories of other Thanksgivings.
I collectively thought about the familial ties associated with my experiences. I had the good fortune of being surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins well into my adulthood.
Of that sizeable group, only one aunt now remains, and her continued presence is a gift. Actually, let me reframe that. All of the familial adults in my childhood still remain. All but one is accessible only through the gift of memory, but the love and influence of those now on the other side of eternity has not diminished in value.
The truth is that as life moves forward, things change, but loves remain. The first Thanksgiving that seemed out of sync for me was Thanksgiving in 1965. My twin brother and I went away to separate colleges in September of that year. Thanksgiving was an opportunity for us to be home; only Ronnie was not home on Thanksgiving Day.
Ronnie was in the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets, and their Thanksgiving tradition trumped the one that previously defined our life. It was all about the Aggie football and the intent to "beat the hell out of UT." Whether they did or didn't, I don't remember. I vividly remember what it felt like when he wasn't present.
Thanksgiving in 1970 was also memorable. It was the first Thanksgiving that the General and I shared without the presence of others. I started to work for the Texas Department of Public Welfare as a child protective services worker in San Angelo in October. Treva was also working, and we were only off work on Thanksgiving Day. The logics of driving to Odessa and splitting time with two families for one day would not have been a workable plan.
Consequently, we opted to stay home. The thought of preparing a Thanksgiving meal for two seemed impossible. We went to a restaurant instead. I remember that it didn't feel like Thanksgiving.
When you stop to think about it, the 1621 Thanksgiving Celebration by the pilgrims was more than a familial gathering shared with the Indians to celebrate a good harvest. It was a community expression of gratitude to God and heartfelt remembrance honoring those who didn't survive their first bitter winter in America. Almost half of the 102 Pilgrims died before springtime.
That first Thanksgiving was filled with the knowledge of their rightful dependency upon God. Like the psalmist expressed it: "… Know ye that the Lord he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name. For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations".
That should serve as a gentle reminder of our need for that which only God can provide. Often in life we mistakenly live as though all that we have is the outcome of our hard work and determination. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
One of my favorite movies in Shenandoah. The movie is about one family during in the Civil War. Charlie Anderson, the father and head of the household, is a widower. Prior to his wife's death, at her insistence, he promised that he would say grace before every meal to be an example for their family.
Yet the content of his prayer may mirror the prayers we sometimes say: "Lord, We cleared this land. We plowed it. We harvested the crops, and we fixed the food. We worked 'til we were dog-boned-tired. None of it would have been here if it weren't for us, but we thank you anyway".
Subsequently, beaten up by life and surrounded by the reality of loss and grief, the character in the movie came to understand the need for rightful dependency upon God. What a difference a genuine expression of Thanksgiving can really make.
All My Best!
Don
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