The Meaning of Thanksgiving

Last night I, like the other 200,000 residents of Salt Lake City, ventured out to purchase the remaining items needed for my Thanksgiving recipes. Traffic was chaotic, patience was limited, and what the hell is a rutabaga anyway?? I tried my best to be polite and respect the anxiety of the holiday.
As I sat in traffic waiting for a parking spot at the local grocery store, I observed what can only be described as sheer panic on the faces of those around me. Shoppers with their loot fleeing from the store trying to dodge cars as the drivers eyeball their parking spot; screaming, hungry kids hanging out of cars, mothers looking like that final straw has finally snapped, and people revving their engines to try and get that next available spot. As I am watching all of this take place, I pose a question to myself. What is all of this for? I began to reflect on a conversation that took place a few years ago.

Thanksgiving dinner 2000, my then 18 year old nephew leaned over to me at the dinner table and quietly asked me "What does Thanksgiving mean? What is it for?" I was surprised by his request, mostly because he asked this question of me (I am generally known as the black sheep in the family), and because I just assumed that growing up in a family that is deeply entrenched in Christian values, that this almost grown man would already have an answer to this question. Just as I started to open my mouth, his mother piped in.

I love my sister-in-law, she is a loving mother and a wonderful second grade teacher, but those of you that have spent anytime with teachers that teach small children, you know that sometimes they can start talking to adults the same way they talk to their students. I suppose it comes with the job if you love it as much as she does. She began to tell her son the story of the Pilgrims and the Indians (yes Indians, not Native Americans). He peered over at me with that look of "Help Me" written on his face. I smiled and said nothing. I might not be a mom myself, but I know never to offer advice or information that directly contradicts a mom when talking to their child.
We went ahead with the prayer and the feast. Afterwards I pulled him aside and asked him what he thought the meaning of Thanksgiving was. He stared at me, almost afraid to say anything. "Food, Family, and America," he said softly. "Sounds good to me," I replied, "I think Thanksgiving is anyway that you feel you can give thanks or be thankful for the life you have. I understand the story that began the tradition of Thanksgiving, but I believe it has evolved from that to be a more personal celebration of Thanks and gratitude." He grinned, said thank you, and went about eating his pumpkin pie.

As I sat in my car reflecting on this past conversation, all the while viewing the chaos before me, I wondered what I would tell him now. What am I thankful for this Thanksgiving?

I am thankful that my husband is home and not in Iraq or in some other country.
I am thankful that I am loved and that I love others.
I am thankful that my family and friends are all healthy.
I am thankful that I have a warm bed to sleep in every night and a fridge full of food.
I am thankful that I have my home and my health.
I am thankful for my laughter and the beauty that surrounds me everyday.
I am thankful that I am a woman living in this country.
I am thankful for the birds that sing their beautiful song every morning outside my window.

....and I am thankful that my husband and I have not jumped off a cliff or shot each other while remodeling this house (okay I had to add a little fun amongst all that seriousness!)

Have a wonderful and Happy Thanksgiving.