Have you ever noticed that most of us remember our worst Thanksgiving? When the turkey burned or we were so ill on Turkey Day, we could only stomach a cracker. The truth is that some folks will experience their first, worst Thanksgiving this year. However, I pray they keep the faith because a secret is hidden amid difficulty or pain.
Years ago, just before Thanksgiving Day in the early 1980s, I was hospitalized for extreme exhaustion. I didn’t burn the turkey; instead, I was the one who was burned–mentally and physically burned out. It was a terrible time when distress and sadness enveloped me. If I attempted any chore, my heart would race, and my head would pound as if my thirty-something-year-old body were giving up or tuning out.
At the time, I was newly divorced with three small children looking forward to Thanksgiving Day. The dog had given birth to puppies, the turkey was thawing in the fridge, and my recipes were scattered among work papers and laundry. Yet here it was the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving Thursday, and I was staring at the hospital room ceiling.
Thankfully, my children were safely in their father’s care and traveling to their grandparents’ home miles away to celebrate the day. My mother and father planned to drive north from their home in Florida after Thanksgiving to help. No other family members lived nearby, and I faced Thanksgiving alone for the first time.
Tears began to stream down my face turning into downpours. A nurse entered my room and sat on the edge of my bed. She said little but took my hand and held it tightly until the tears dried, and I fell into a deep sleep.
When morning ushered in the dreaded Thanksgiving, I prayed that God would somehow speed up the day for those of us who were in the hospital, and it would be over. However, every minute seemed like an hour, and the only thing speeding was my racing heart.
When it was time for lunch, the nurse came into my room with a wheelchair. “Hop in, girl; we are going to have Thanksgiving dinner!” she cheerfully commanded.
“I don’t feel like it.” I quietly responded.
She was a somewhat intimidating nurse with a stern demeanor, and when she said, “You don’t have a choice!” I knew I didn’t. With a scowl on my face and tears beginning to pool, she took me into a room where several round tables were covered in white tablecloths.
Each table was decorated with turkeys formed from construction paper in various colors and a tiny vase holding one flower. Most patients had families who joined them with small children in tow. Around my table, with its purple-paper-turkey centerpiece, sat those of us who were without family, plus the nurse.
I took a deep breath and prayed for aid to survive my utter isolation and overwhelming gloom. I didn’t feel very blessed when we thanked God for our blessings. And by the look on their faces, neither did anyone else sitting with me.
As I tried eating the cafeteria turkey and dressing, I studied the folks beside me. We were an assembly of strangers with individual stories and various illnesses. And we were of all ages and diverse ethnicities, living different lives. Yet, we were holding hands and thanking God for all we had.
Out of the blue–and to this day, I have no idea why–I remember suddenly sensing it was my responsibility to spread cheer to this abandoned-looking group. To my utter surprise, by the time the tasteless pecan pie was served, our wheelchairs were shaking with laughter.
After two weeks, I returned home, life resumed, and Thanksgivings were never the same again. Every year when that special Thursday rolls around in November, I always recall the purple paper turkey on the hospital dining table as I decorate my table with candles and a cornucopia. Each time I offer a Thanksgiving prayer, I thank God for the laughter He gifted me on my saddest holiday. When I view my family gathered around our Thanksgiving table, I recall the strangers who once held my hands to pray. It was the FAITH we all embraced that stressful day that eased our pain and turned strangers into friends.
When remembering our blessings this Thanksgiving, and every Thanksgiving, let us also offer a passionate prayer for those suffering from illness, homelessness, or grief.
My worst Thanksgiving made me more appreciative of all the holidays that would follow, and I am incredibly thankful for the God who holds my hand through them all.
