The Giving Thanks Season

Isn’t it wonderful that our country’s leaders had the heart in 1863 to set aside a special day each year to simply give thanks for our blessings? It reflected their recognition and appreciation of the magnitude of God’s goodness beginning even in 1621 when the Pilgrims celebrated the bounty of harvest during the earliest days of the English settlement. Compared to today’s levels of production of food and other consumable goods, their bounty was meager indeed.  Yet, indications are that those settlers praised God fervently for sustenance through those hard early days.

One of the things for which I am most thankful is family traditions which endure through the years, binding the new generations to the old. My earliest memories of Thanksgiving as a child centered around traveling to West Tennessee to my great-aunt and uncle’s house to gather around their beautiful old table laden with the traditional  turkey and trimmings.  By the time I married, Aunt Blanche and Uncle Elmer were too old to host us all; so my new sister-in-law and I cooked our first Thanksgiving dinner for our spouses, my siblings and my parents in the little apartment where Buzz and I lived. I still remember many phone calls to Mother for recipe clarification.  It was a primitive effort, but everyone was gracious and I don’t remember any complaints.

That initial effort was the beginning of a sometimes-annual event in our lives. Soon I inherited the old dining suite from Tennessee and made the tradition an annual one. Many years later when Mother died, I asked for her dining table, as it is larger, and passed the antique one on to a niece. It is my hope that someday it will be filled with happy family members and memories once again.

It seems the norm for the youngest generation to have to sit at the kid’s table on that grand feast day. Commonly, there are grumbles from some of the young ones wishing they could be at the adult table. I would tell them that their day would come, and they would get their wish. But at the same time, it would mean that a place had been vacated by the infirmity or death of an older loved one. In our family, the day has come. This year everyone who could come got to sit at the big table, but gone were precious grandparents and aunts and uncles. All agreed that the rite of passage was bittersweet.

In 2010 we had to break with tradition. Our family had planned to be away from home on Thanksgiving. I offered to shift the feast to July, and all quickly agreed. We had Thanksgiving in July and the conviviality was just as strong. Some even suggested we do the meal twice a year, but the cook quickly demurred.

Our menu never changes. I have tried that once or twice, with polite outcries from the hungry hoard. Desserts are the only items subject to change. We always begin the meal by going around the table and expressing the things for which we are thankful during the past year. (We are thankful that a new grandson will be arriving in March!) I have learned from my family in this way. This year, I asked everyone to also tell something for which they hope to be thankful next year. This is one of those marvelous times during which I get a glimpse into the hearts of the men in my family.

Possibly this will be the last time we will gather in the Woodmont dining room. Mother’s table may well have another house in which to rest next year. But in the whole scope of things it won’t matter. What will matter are the faces of those precious loved ones who gather together, clasping hands and hearts, to give thanks and ask the Lord’s blessings for another bountiful year.