Happy Thanksgiving!

So long ago, the smell of cold air – that bite in your nose while you’re doing farm chores before breakfast. The crunch of gravel under foot is loud in the still, dense air. A single bird calls from somewhere off in the distance, but sounds so clean and powerful, it seems close. High, wispy clouds reflect pink and gold from the early morning Sun.  A quiet sense of awe makes you want to stay and take it in, but it keeps on changing, the intense colors in the sky fade and the silence gives way to the more plentiful sounds of the day. Your precious solitude vanishes under a few footfalls, whether it be by hoofs, paws, or gum boots- that deep sense of silent awe vaporizes and you must interact. But it’s alright, you can voice your excitement for playing with your cousins after that seemingly long drive, to grandmother’s house we go. Wood smoke and the eye-drying sleepy aroma of grandpa’s news paper and the sage-heavy dressing that only my grandma could make.

May & George talked different from all the other folks I know. “Did-ja brang yer play-perdies? Well,  I rekon you orta.” By the time I knew them, they lived a simple life, not too busy, at peace with life, they muddled through it, but enjoyed what they found to enjoy. Small amounts of black and white TV included Lawrence Welk on Saturday evenings, Oral Roberts tent meetings on Sunday afternoon – sit on the porch with old Fido, and watch the neighbor’s dusk to dawn light do that color change as it came on at twilight. They would say, “I cain’t do like I used to.”  But they had a sense of deep contentment.  They were here and gone before we became so “enlightened” as we are today, but I think of them sitting on one of their porches, watching the Sun set, as incredibly rich and wise.

Thanksgiving included the usual turkey meal always preceded by a heartfelt prayer of gratitude. In my early years, I found my Grandmother’s cooking a challenge, she had dumplings and biscuits that I could start but not finish, they seem to grow with every chew, stuffing, or dressing had a flavor too strong for me, I mostly stayed with dark meat turkey, potatoes with gravy after trying to push those little giblet bits away, the pie was good, but I mostly just ate the filling. Time before and after the meal was exciting play with cousins, but I learned that football could be more physical than I was prepared for when facing bigger players.

What a metaphor for life! We like to pick and choose our life results and experiences, but we can’t see the future, so we sometimes bite off more than we can chew, we are surprised that some things we choose don’t fit our tastes at all, we risk disappointing others with what we have to leave on our plate. Sometimes we get hurt just as a participant in life, but especially if we try to carry the ball. Not a perfect situation, but the name and the whole reason for the gathering together is thanksgiving. “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” 1Th_5:18

When it’s all said and done and I go to my reward, perhaps that feeling of awe I had on that early Thanksgiving morning will be permanent instead of fleeting, perhaps the things I know now and blissfully did not know then, I will not know again. Painful things like 9-11, like a few terrifying early morning phone calls I can’t forget, like an accident that took a child, like hearing a mother cry out in anguish and unbearable grief. Like friends that for whatever reason became lost, and like high-flying dreams that crashed to the ground and took our hearts with them. The final triumph is to be thankful, not just in spite of, but because of the pain of our imperfect world and because it is right.