The Pilgrims made
seven times more graves than houses.
No Americans have been more impoverished
than these who, nevertheless,
set aside a day of thanksgiving.
- H.U. Westermayer
This year's Thanksgiving centerpiece, made from things I had, things I gathered and things I've been given. I wanted to enjoy it all week long, not just the day of.
This year has afforded me many opportunities to examine my heart. Am I truly thankful? Do I live a life of thankfulness? The answer was, predictably, not always. But to my surprise, I found seeds of thanksgiving I hadn't known were there:
I found that raw, honest thanks sometimes proves itself in the midst of tears. In the midst of new graves and lost houses.
I found that it's one thing to hope on blessings, but it's an entirely different thing to hope on the Blesser.
If the Pilgrims - who spent days digging graves while their houses lay unbuilt - can be thankful, so will I. So must I. And the thing for which I'm most thankful this year? That while seasons change and blessings and loved ones come and go, I am justified by grace...
...and still I stand.