It’s been a few months since I’ve written anything. I’ve been really wanting to, but God has just
not placed anything in my heart that I felt I wanted to communicate.
The last few days, as I’ve been reading what people are
thankful for, it has caused me to reflect on thanksgiving. Obviously it is
reasonable to think of thankfulness during the thanksgiving season. But this
year I felt an urge to put some thoughts in writing.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, but it has not always been
so. As a child of immigrant parents, and one living in East L.A. in the 60’s
and early 70’s, often it was hard to be thankful. Sure, it was wonderful to not
go to school for a few days, nice to not be harassed by punks and gangbangers,
but other than playing football with a few friends who pretty much lived just
like I did, it was just another holiday which we ate something truly “American”.
Beyond that, Thanksgiving was nothing
more than a day you could buy a turkey for next to nothing and eat that instead
of enchiladas or in my case with enchiladas. The truth was, although I
appreciated the holiday, it was not something that meant anything special to
me. You ate and you had a day off. To be honest, other than the fact that it
was a four-day weekend I really didn’t care for it, I actually found it
somewhat depressing.
As a typical 11 or 12 year old, I would be outside; playing
with my friends then around 3 o’clock my mother would call and say, “come and
eat”. I’d go inside, sit down, eat;
sometimes my dad would be there sometimes he’d be outside or down the street.
15 minutes I’d finish and go back outside to what I was doing. That was the “Thanksgiving”
I remember until the age of 18 or so. I don’t blame my parents at all, they
sort of “learned” from what we, as “Americans’” told them Thanksgiving was. So
they tried to “Americanize” us in a Mexican sort of way.
When Barbara and I were married in 1985, we did what most
young married couples do on their first Thanksgiving. We went to her parents’
house and ate and maybe watch some TV, then we went to my parents’ house and we
ate, we sat and maybe watch some TV. As Barbara and I left we both felt a need
to change the way we acknowledged our thankfulness for all we had and at the
same time develop a tradition for our yet unborn children. We wanted, that they
would always think of Thanksgiving as a day set aside to give thanks, to the
God of all good things, to enjoy family and build memories that would sustain
them in a future that has constantly becomes more and more secular.
That year we changed things. We began our own little
tradition. A simple dinner with whoever would come to our cramped house with
dining in a garage with our 2-month-old son. Yet we were thankful.
Today almost 27 years later, Thanksgiving has become, for me,
truly a time of reflection. It has transitioned to a day of family, friends,
food and conversation. A time to enjoy my children and their friends, to see my
nephews and nieces at their best and their parents enjoying the company of
those who matter most to them. An occasion where my family makes new memories
and recalls those from years gone by. It is also a day where both our parents
are able to rest and know that their seed has had all their needs met by the
God of all creation.
I
love Thanksgiving, because I have a lot
to be thankful for.