Daughter and Son-in-Law are hosting our annual feast. Pumpkins and dried corn decorate their home. A couple of rather beaten up pilgrims adorn the mantle, just as they did for years at our house on Strathmore Drive. A turkey in the shape of a small hand holds pride of place on the mantle, as well. GrandBoy's list of thanks includes Tripps (his dog) and chicken, by the way. All that's missing is a floor scattered with Lincoln log houses and funny Pilgrim hats.
It is a day to pause and give thanks for blessings bestowed by the grace of God and blessings earned by our own hard work, creative spirit, and humanity.
For me, the top three on my Thanksgiving list - family, good health, meaningful employment - never change. I know that those huge blessings will not always be granted to me, but I hope to remember - when one or all are no more - that for a great span of my life, I had the great good fortune of love, health, and vocation.
Lest you think I'm a Pollyanna, I realize the world is full of trials and tribulations. Anger, frustration, loneliness, and fear can eat us up if we're not careful. Realities must be dealt with, and those realities can break, or nearly break, us. But today, I choose to focus on my blessings and leave the prickly stuff for tomorrow. Or next week. OK, now I'm sounding more like Scarlett than Pollyanna. Still.
So, thank you, Pilgrims and Indians. Thank you, Plymouth Rock, Schoolhouse Rock, and Rock and Roll. Thank you, United States of America, Atlanta, and New York City. Thank you, Fraziers, Greshams, and Bartows. Thank you, God.
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