Spirit of Thanksgiving
I’m not certain. Maybe my eyesight has just grown dim. The passing of years tends to do that. But I am hard-pressed to see the “attitude of gratitude” walking around much these days. You remember it. That “thanks, Mom!” that put a glow on her face when we sat down to dinner. Her day had been careworn and busy and never ending. But when it was time to eat, well, the food was there. Whether abundant or lean. And our,” Thanks!” putting a smile on her face, was both our rewards.
It was the simple things that brought joy. That fruit of appreciation that can’t be purchased in any store. In fact, if we lived with Old Mother Hubbard today, she might find those cupboards downright bare.
Nope! Gratitude seems to have been replaced. And I don’t think I care much for its usurper. Old Mr. Grumble and his best friend Mr. Disgruntled III live in my town. They walk down my streets. And in fact, if I were honest, they are unwelcomed guests way too often in my own home. The DVD’s skip. The microwave splashed the soup. The car won’t fit the in garage…it’s overflowing…again. And, oh yeah, there’s no room in the freezer.
Be honest! When was the last time you expressed genuine appreciation? Or were the recipient of a heartfelt, ‘thank you’? Usually it’s the wrong label, or not the right color, or you discover later they traded in your gift for the ‘upgraded’ model.
We complain bitterly about taxes, having ‘missed’ the blessing of a roof overhead, protecting us from the cold. Or we gripe about the price of gas, ‘cause after all, our two-plus cars, and let’s not forget the RV, are such gas-guzzlers.
The Spirit of Thanksgiving seems to have passed to another dimension. And I can’t say that I blame it. We live in a country where our socks are blessed off, and we just won’t see it!
Well, now, wait a minute. I think we had a reminder call not so many months ago. That bright clear morning that shook the earth when two fireballs erupted over the New York skyline. We grabbed our children, held them tightly, and thanked God we were together.
We appreciated our neighbor, saying, “Hello!” for the first time in three years. We called our parents just to tell them we loved them. And gratitude bloomed again! Even for the simple things.
Let’s not forget what that day of horror made us remember. We have everything to be thankful for. Even the aches and pains, and yes, those gray hairs, remind us that a gift has been placed in our hands. This day! Filled with blessings! And if that knock on your door turns out to be Mr. Grumble? Well, just give him a swift kick in the pants. Or, better yet, introduce him to the Spirit of Thanksgiving!
DeAnna Brooks (December 5, 2007)
Having raised four children, I live now in Texas. Mostly my writing is a sojourn with God. I find myself ever planted in Eden, glorying in its abundant and rich communion with the Almighty. Or, I am looking back, with longing. And the sojourn continues.
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