Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving time is like no other time of the year. It is an invigorating time just before winter's chill. A time of expectation. It is the time when the glow of autumn turns to muted shades of brown, when the sky is gray with the promise of snow. We feel a child-like excitement about the impending holidays as the stores decorate their windows with Indian corn and pictures of pilgrims.
In my mind I picture the men and women who celebrated the first Thanksgiving. They had suffered greatly, enduring three and an half months of agony on the Atlantic Ocean in a leaky ship. Then they had to clear the land and build crude houses to protect them from the elements. The wilderness, winter, and disease seemed united against them. Less than a year later only half of them survived. In spite of this, or more likely because of this, they celebrated with their Indian friends by having a feast. They were thankful, not for their abundance or affluence, but for the sheer gratitude of being alive, and the opportunity to pursue life in this new land.
Some of these thankful people were my ancestors. Stephen and his wife Elizabeth Hopkins, William and Mary Brewster, managed to survive that first winter and were among those celebrating. This is a time to remember all our ancestors, whoever they might have been and whatever land they inhabited. We are linked to them still, a part of them remains in us.
I think sometimes our abundance of blessings can be a hindrance to real gratitude. We become so involved in enjoying the blessings that we neglect to give thanks to the Giver. When I make attempts to properly thank Him I hardly know where to begin. Though my home is humble it is ample for my needs and the needs of my young daughter. We have food to eat, we have clothing to wear, we are healthy and happy. We have blessings that many people of the world have never seen. Each day, when I get out of bed, I use dozens of seemingly ordinary blessings. Electricity at the flick of a switch, water at the turn of a faucet - hot and cold, a dry soft towel which I neither had to spin thread for, nor weave. A comb, a toothbrush, a bar of soap. The list continues to grow. Most people have a breakfast that would be a royal feast in the eyes of much of the world's population. And while millions crave only a place to lay their heads to sleep or forget their misery, I have a warm soft bed with clean sheets and blankets. Though my income labels me as lower middle class, I have many comforts.
With all these comforts, it is easy to be thankful. But what if all I had were suddenly taken away and I was left alone in the world, alone with only my faith in God to sustain me, alone with survival as my only blessing. Could I still give thanks? I think of that great man, Job. In one day Job was impoverished, all the basis of his wealth, oxen, sheep, camels, servants, and even his children were obliterated. The scriptures say that Job rent his mantle, shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground and worshipped. And then he said, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." His friends added to his grief by suggesting he must have sinned for such terrible things to have happened. Even his wife urged him to curse God and die. He heroically replied, "What, shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?" And the book of Job states that in all this he did not sin with his lips.
I believe there is a definite link between gratitude and spirituality. The blessings our Heavenly Father gives to us are gifts of His love, given with the hope that we will wisely use them. This Thanksgiving, take a moment to think of all that you have been blessed with and give geniune thanks to the One who bestows these blessings.