“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.” – H. U. Westermayer
I’ve started calling it the “Lost Holiday”. You know the one – it’s sandwiched in between Halloween and Christmas. It’s the one without much fanfare. There are no costumes or school parties. No candy to be hoped for and consumed. No presents under a tree, stockings stuffed to overflowing, or Toys R Us catalogs to peruse. In our consumer culture, Thanksgiving stands in the shadows of these other celebrations.
I’ve noticed that the eclipse has become more and more complete each year. American retailers set the pace for the rest of the country and, let’s face it, giving thanks is not really a big money-maker for them.
In most stores this year, the minute the orange and black trinkets were clearanced, the red and green decorations came out. I’ve heard Christmas music in at least one store and seen my fair share of Christmas advertising already.
And, we willingly follow their lead. One only need look down the street at yard after yard already decorated for Christmas.
Mind you, I’m not saying it’s wrong to be excited about Christmas. And, shame on me if I were to embrace a legalism about when we’re allowed to hang the Christmas lights and when we’re not. No, that’s not my aim.
My hope is simply to encourage a pause. Foremost, in my own heart, perhaps in yours as well. Could we just not eclipse the one day that we’ve set aside to give thanks? Will you join me as I quiet my heart this week and purpose to cultivate an attitude of gratitude? To slow down and reflect on the past year (or the past month or the past week) with a thankful heart. A grateful heart for all of it: the good, the bad, and the ugly in our lives.
Maybe you’ll start a new family tradition that points you toward gratitude. Maybe you’ll spend a few more minutes praying to the One who gives so lavishly. Maybe you’ll stress a little less over the perfect centerpiece and just enjoy the simple. Maybe you’ll just look across the table and choose to see something precious in your spouse or your kids – a reminder of why you’re grateful for them in your life. Whatever it is, won’t you join me in recovering the Lost Holiday?
Maybe it will jump start a new thing in your life that moves out of one Thursday each year and into the very fabric of your life.
For now, I continue my gift list. I’m joining with others in an online Gratitude Community to reflect on the good gifts. Here is a smattering from this week:
- little second-grade friends for Madison to share life with
- piano music that calms my heart and ministers to my soul
- our Community Group and life stories that point to God’s glory
- one of the most beautiful Novembers of the last few years
- Fall hikes with the kids
- blogs and sites that allow me to benefit from the creativity of others
- reading that connects deeply and brings out the best in me
- colorful pens and papers
- finished projects
- father and son watching the Buckeyes together on Saturday
And, oh, that boy of mine. He approaches life with such passion and intensity. And, it shows. On his clothes. Some people can wear their jeans for a few days before a wash. Not my guy. Not the boy who MUST dive for the football at recess. Or climb under the shed when he’s playing hide and seek. Or roll through the mud while wrestling with his buddy in the leaf-strewn back yard.
How I scrub at those jeans. Day after day. Survival has forced me to learn the tricks. Fels Naptha for the grass stains. Spray cleaner for the other stains. Scrub brush and warm water for the mud. I’ve learned to keep his church jeans separate from the rest. And, I adore Sears for their Kidvantage program, for when the holes inevitably come. They always do. He never outgrows them first. The holey knees always come first. It’s been this way as long as I can remember – ever since his toddle morphed into a run. 
But, here’s where the challenge comes full circle: Can I find beauty in those muddy jeans? Could my cringe turn into a smile when I see him round the bend all muddy at school pick-up? Instead of wondering why he’s dirtier than all the other boys, could I encourage him to keep giving it his all? Is it so bad that he likes to throw his whole body into an impossible catch or an unlikely tackle? 
