16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
It is 7:30am Central and the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade will be starting in 30 minutes. Watching the Parade is the first of many Thanksgiving Day rituals I have enjoyed since a boy we still enjoy as a family.
I always cry at the beginning of the Parade. It's another Thanksgiving Day ritual, a little lump in the throat to begin the holiday season. The moment is bittersweet as Thanksgivings past come back. My grandmother B's giblet gravy. The first Thanksgiving she was no longer there to cook it. Trips to Arkansas to see our Aunt Mary. The smell of hotcakes in her kitchen. We only had pancakes in Texas; but hotcakes in Aunt Mary's kitchen was not only another state it was another world. Racing down the hill in front of her house. My great-grandfather driving my great-grandmother down the hill, stepping out of the car, and slowly walking to the trunk to pull out her wheelchair. The Thanksgiving we were still in the high school football playoffs and had practice in the cool, November air that morning. I still remember the Cowboys won that afternoon on their way to a Super Bowl Season. The Thanksgiving after 9/11 when I was in seminary in North Carolina and so far from home and the trees were so dense and the days so short. The next year when I went to the Parade in New York City and watched from the 57th floor balcony of some friend of a friend of a friend's apartment building and got sick to my stomach because I was so high in the air and had drank so much the night before. Our first Thanksgiving with a child of my own. The first Thanksgiving after my cousin was killed and my grasping for words during the prayer as my uncle stood beside me. The time dad was too sick to be with us at Thanksgiving. This year, when he'll be well.
All of these Thanksgivings come back to me that moment the Parade starts. They are with me when the TV comes on. The highs and the lows. The good times and the bad. The hard and very hard ones. And the ones which were and will be again purely joyous.
The first Thanksgiving in Plymouth was celebrated in 1621 after 45 of the 102 colonists who set out for America had passed away during the harsh and devastating winter before. Yet the harvest was plentiful and the storehouse was full and there was much to be thankful for.
And then there is the Thanksgiving Proclamation itself, given to the American people by Lincoln in 1863 amidst the terror of war. Gettysburg passed, with its myriads and myriads of thousands lost, and yet Lincoln calls on the people to recognize the blessings of the Almighty with these fine words:
Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.
And so, Lincoln said in his memorable way, it was "fit and proper" to set aside a day for observing thanks.
"Give thanks in all circumstances," St. Paul says. We do. And we remember giving thanks in a circumstances also. It is fit; and it is proper. And it is what Americans will always do.
Thou hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more,—a grateful heart
Not thankful when it pleaseth me,—
As if Thy blessings had spare days,—
But such a heart, whose pulse may be
Thy praise.
(George Herbert)
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