The first Thanksgiving was a feast that lasted many days, a celebration of gratitude to God for a good harvest and a fervent prayer of hope for a successful winter.
Today we gather with friends and family acknowledging God’s blessings, much as the pilgrims did. We enjoy one another’s company with plenty of food; talking, sharing, loving. This is a season when I reach into my cluttered cabinets, pulling out family treasures from generations past. Each item brings warmth to my heart with fond memories of the aroma in kitchens of my childhood. Looking for spices, I rediscovered this stove top salt and pepper in jadite with badly bent lids. The set belonged to Grandmother Buckland and causes me to think of her when I see them. I loved going to the big brick house, playing with the round push-button light switches and watching Grandaddy eat his peas on a knife. Can you remember that dining room table full of food… and a childs long wait, until the adults had finished their meal?
Thanksgiving is always good; in fact, it’s my favorite holiday. But it is somehow better in the mountains of southwest Virginia. Leaves turn many shades of oranges and reds, become crisp and fall to the ground while the trees hunker down for winter snow. Spring always comes awakening with warmth and growth assuring us that the cycle continues, just as He planned.