O Lord that lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.

Ten years ago, this particular Holiday, was much different in my family. You could find us up on the Lake Shore, all of us. Grams would be exhausted and attempting to cook a moist turkey, which she would never let Mom cook despite all of our pleading. The wives would be in a frenzy trying to get all of the sides, that were bound to be the great leftovers that following day because of some inherent-cook-too-much-trait, cooked. The husbands would be busy setting up tables and 'borrowing' chairs from the Church. The kids would be attempting to stay out of any adults eye sight so as to not be put to work. Once all of that was over, or someone with a loud enough voice had hit the limit of preparation, we would pile in the cars and head to the park. There would be a rousing game of football and the stress of a meal would disappear all together. We would return to the house to warm things up and sit down to eat. Gramps would wait patiently as all of made some smart-alec remark about something and then silence us all with his sincere prayer of gratitude for our family, our freedom, our Lord. For a few moments we would all reflect on how truly blessed our family found ourselves despite the challenges that loomed. Then the conversation would begin (the contents of which are not appropriate for this blog). The food would be enjoyed and then enjoyed a bit more. The men would do the dishes, Dad attempting not to break any of Grams precious china (I watched carefully as I knew these would be mine one day, most years we only lost one plate or salad bowl). The guitar would be pulled out and we'd gather around the piano for a night of Mount Music.

Things are a bit different now. It's after two and I'm not in a house that smells like turkey. Grams and a few siblings are in sunny CA with no worries about the looming flurries. A few of us remain in Our City to dine at a restaurant. The remainder will gather in the state to the south. But that does not stop my heart from being full of gratitude. These past few days B and I have been talking about traditions of yesterday and the hopes of those for the morrow. I've had the chance to share hour after hour, bless his patient heart, of stories that have shaped my life. Of course in my memory those political arguments or gross anatomy talk were a bit less intense and dividing. In my memory our voices knew the harmony and no one ever got sick and infected the whole house. In my memory the turkey was always my mom's perfectly moist bird. In my memory there was never a need for CPR or a trip to the hospital to figure out if that Old Uncle really had a broken wrist or if he was just a bit of wuss. In my memory there was always apple pie. In my memory those traditions are flawless, those people are perfect. I certainly miss those that I am far from, whether that be in merely a physical sense or even one of mortality. The gift that was each Thanksgiving Day is one that I will always cherish and be grateful for.

So my wish, this early Thanksgiving Morning (2:22 - which means it is bound to come true, right?) is that each of us have a Holiday that shapes us, that invokes feelings of love (my absence from that Red Political conversation might make that a bit easier), that reminds us that we truly have so much to be grateful for. Might Will's prayer be mine and yours today, that's William Shakespeare. MERRY THANKSGIVING!