If you feed them, they will come.
While the statement makes me smile considering the happiness
of my guys is in direct proportion to the contents of our pantry, a few years
ago it became all the more meaningful as my husband and I prepared to host
Thanksgiving for both sides of our family. It was a large gathering, which meant
dining al fresco with long tables set with platters of food, a fire pit
crackling nearby, an area designated for cornhole, and a backdrop
of trees showcasing leaves of brilliant orange, red and yellow.
The day before Thanksgiving they began arriving from near and far, from Illinois, Virginia, Maryland, South Carolina, and Georgia. They came, our brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents, all representing a variety of professions: engineers, accountants, businessmen, a teacher, an information specialist, a personal trainer, a writer. Some were students in middle school, one was a high school senior, several were in college, and a few had recently graduated and had entered the work force. There was a beautiful boy with autism, a Papa who was 87 years old and who brought a homemade cherry pie, a Nonno who would soon get a brand-new knee, and a Nonna who brought her Italian heritage into this very American holiday by offering espresso with the pumpkin pie.
That was a lot of family, which meant a lot of chaos. While
we are a cohesive group, we are still individuals with ideas, passions, and
opinions; in other words, we do not agree on everything and, in fact, often
have polar viewpoints on issues dealing with religion, politics, and world
affairs. We are loud, opinionated, loving, and competitive, and not unlike
families everywhere, it is not always perfect.
And yet, on that day it was, and fast forward a few years,
it still is. Thanksgiving reminds us of this. In all the running around we do
to live our lives, and despite all those things that make life messy and
chaotic with work, politics, doctor’s appointments, sports practices, exams, and
job interviews, it’s nice to have a day which the only thing that matters is
sitting down and breaking bread together.
This year our gathering will be a little smaller, but again
we are preparing hearth and home. We will pull out board games and wash guest
towels and bake pies; we will keep fingers crossed for good weather and pray
for sons driving home; and we will print out our family’s Thanksgiving prayer
for everyone to read aloud. It is a special prayer, written by Lino Villacha,
and my mother became pen pals with Lino through her best friend who was, for
many years, a missionary in Brazil. Lino’s poem, Obrigado Senhor, is a
prayer thanking God for his many blessings—and when you read his words in light
of the fact that he suffered with leprosy and lived in poverty, it puts things
in perspective.
In his poem, Lino thanks God for healthy limbs when so many
are crippled; for a voice that sings when many are mute; for hands that work
when so many have to beg; and for a home to return to when so many don’t know
where they are going. And as we read the poem reminding us to celebrate what we
have instead of focusing on what we do not, it is the last two lines
which capture the essence of Thanksgiving: It is wonderful, Lord, to have so
little to ask/And so much to be thankful for.
To which the only response for all of us holding hands
around the table this Thanksgiving will be a heartfelt and very humble, Amen.
