When I was growing up, we were very poor. It was a while before I realized that, though. We weren’t ever really hungry. We ate a lot of fish and squirrel and rabbit and, on occasion, raccoon. (I do not recommend the coon) We also ate pig’s brains and pig’s feet and chitlins. Chicken gizzards were a favorite. I always wondered why I didn’t get the cool toys the other kids got for Christmas, but my mother would explain that I was probably not good enough. This had the dual effect of making me try really hard to be good every year and also to despise Santa.

We farmed and my father also worked at a factory. Every year my father’s work gave everyone a turkey at Thanksgiving and a ham at Christmas. (I get sick when I eat pork now, but not so much then, and I loved ham.) We ate well at the holidays.

Until the year came when my father’s factory was on strike for October, November and December. Our huge garden did not do well that year, nor did the crops. Living paycheck to paycheck, there was no money to carry us through those months. Our parents set us all down one night and explained the situation. No special meals and no presents for Christmas. Being a child who enjoyed a good meal (really enjoyed) I was more upset at the prospect of no turkey or ham. Having wild game every night gets old, and it got more and more scarce when the snow started. I honestly didn’t care about the gifts so much. I wanted the feeling that only comes when you can feast.

As Thanksgiving neared my mother was able to secure a small, whole chicken. Once she was done, she assured me, I wouldn’t know the difference between it and turkey. I was not comforted. Chicken was great on Sunday afternoon, but not for a holiday.

I was a child and didn’t understand and I could not hide my disappointment. I had heard a little bit about God and how He could provide, but that year it was like my feeling about Santa. We were just being ignored.

Two days before Thanksgiving my uncle and aunt walked in. Uncle Bert was carrying the biggest turkey I had ever seen and Aunt Evie was carrying a paper shopping bag filled with all the things that go with a Thanksgiving meal. She had my sisters go out to their car and bring in the two pumpkin pies from the backseat. My mother stood there and sobbed and even my father had tears in his eyes. Thanksgiving was saved! Later, at Christmas, a local church did the same thing. No ham, but another turkey, which was fine with me since I like turkey better. Christmas was saved!

Since I have been alone, I always get invited to eat with someone at the holidays. I always turn it down. No offence is intended. It is just now, in my solitude, I can really focus on my gratefulness. It isn’t that I feel I can’t be grateful with other people. It is just there is a need in me to be alone with my Lord. No football or basketball, no ‘touching, heartfelt movies,’ just… well, ‘be still and know that I am Lord.’

With the help of Bob Evans, I will have my turkey. I look forward to it. In Bible days, you let your honored quests eat first. I will do that and eat whatever the Lord leaves behind. It always works out great like that.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!