My plate was as full as my heart yet again this Thanksgiving. The difference was, my plate did not remain full. It emptied out. True, it filled up again, but that problem was rectified soon enough.
In my 50s, I’ve discovered this shovel-as-flatware approach to dining brings a different sort of fullness. And this one is not quite so satisfying. And it lingers longer, too.
The problem with having a day on the calendar specifically dedicated to the giving of thanks is twofold: one, we are tempted to save our expressions of thanksgiving for “the day”; two, when that day arrives, we wind up repeating ourselves. How can something so sacred be ignored and cliché at the same time? And how do we avoid them both?
This year I am giving thanks for some different sorts of things. After all, 1 Thessalonians 5:18 reads, “in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” If the Holy Spirit had meant to tell Paul to write, “in every good thing,” I’m sure that’s what Paul would have written. So here goes.
