So my sister has the apron on, little cousin is begging to go to the park.  Some family aren't coming because they are upset and others are sitting in traffic on their way as I type.  Dad just yelled out, "Let the football games begin" and Mom is trying to squeeze one more place at the table.  Grandma has only insulted me once so far with an attempted compliment and our British friend is photographing every dish...   Just another holiday here at the Brooks' home.

In a couple of hours we'll be all settled in.  The prayers will be said and the food will be shared.  And then someone will bust out the first of Aunt Katherine's brownies and the stories will begin.   My grandmother has seven brothers and sisters.  They were raised in Hong Kong.  I have spent many Thanksgivings eating brownies and listening to their adventures.  This year there will only be two of them at the table- my grandmother and her sister in law are the ones left of that generation.  Considering the dwindling group, the stories become more precious. 

When you think about it, saying "Thank you," is one of the first manners we encourage small children to adopt. This simple practice of remembering to thank the people around us is so basic to positive human interactions that, when absent, it is a glaring rudeness that paints the withholding party as arrogant.

Somewhere along the line, then, we've learned that gratitude for services rendered or a job well done is an appropriate and meaningful human to human response in life.

But what about thankfulness as a spiritual practice and a way of life?

In Psalm 50, the poet is speaking for God when he says--

"I don't need bulls from your farms or goats from your herds. All the animals in the forest are mine and the cattle on thousands of hills. All the wild birds are mine and all living thingsin the land... Let the GIVING OF THANKS be your sacrifice to God..."

Today millions of dining rooms are filling up with strange, emotionally stunted families doing their best to fake Thanksgiving. I’m asking you not to participate in such foolery, suggesting instead that you prepare your spirit ahead of time with the same level of commitment you bring to the giant, stuffed turkey. If you do, you may discover that the most difficult family celebrations are the ones God uses best.

Even the coziest families struggle with authenticity. Few of us get to choose our dinner party guests; planning the guest list is often fraught with obligation and hostility. The anger that hides in little fortresses all year long must come out from behind the stone wall and show itself.  We fret about the way so-and-so micromanages the dinner, the way that certain parent refuses to discipline his child, the way that certain teenager avoids eye contact—every weakness is exposed in a small dining room. And those are the small things. Thanksgiving will probably make you angry, not grateful. Why do you think Costco sells more bottles of wine this month than any other?