Thanksgiving Day

When Thanksgiving is Sacrificial

~ eternalwaitofglory ~ 1 Comment

We threw a lot of traditional holiday parties when we lived overseas. At the thanksgiving parties we often read part of Abraham Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation. I had never, to my knowledge, read this proclamation until encountering it in a distant land.

Written in 1863, a time of great bloodshed in the middle of the Civil War, Lincoln’s address and desire for people to give thanks for what God provided in the midst of such violence is moving and worth a read over the holidays. It reminds me that thanksgiving in times of strife is worship, a sacrifice of thanksgiving.

I mull over the concept of a sacrifice of praise or thanksgiving often. It’s a strange idea that sometimes seems just out of my mental and emotional comprehension. I know what sacrifice means and I know what praise and thanksgiving means, but the two together pose a challenge.

This year I have much to give thanks for but much of it is because we experienced a measure of suffering and walking through difficulty and trial. Walking through valleys meant that I cried out to the Lord often and desperately. Many prayers and pleas He answered and many He has not. He sustained and is sustaining me but I am not comfortable with my deep need for Him.

To sacrifice is to give what is costly. Praise and thanksgiving in tumultuous times is a sacrifice–it is costly. It causes me to face and acknowledge the good that I know He is and Has done even when there is much more that is not realized.

Ultimately, I notice it costs me my pride. I must give up my idea of what He owes me that I want to praise and give thanks for and accept what comes from His hand which is good, just not exactly the good I wanted for the here and now. I also must accept the reality that He has not come back to take away the tears yet. So the sacrifice of thanksgiving means letting my agenda burn up in faith that God is actively at work to bring about good even if not for me, or not in my time.

I know many this holiday that face the reality of sacrificial thanksgiving. I’m sure those that read Lincoln’s proclamation with their sons, husbands, and loved ones on the battlefield or lost on the battlefield gathered with tears and longing. A feast with tears feels out of place, but maybe it is more on point than I’d like to accept.

Sacrificial praise this year is leading me to a new hope for the future day when healing is complete, tears are wiped away, justice wins the day, and I am with Jesus. But for the here and now, it is thanksgiving that costs me, brings on the tears… and I am thankful that it matters to the One that came to take away our tears one day.

Waste not…

~ eternalwaitofglory ~ 2 Comments

DSC_0141Buried in my blog drafts from our life in East Asia 4 years ago…

Our family is reading Farmer Boy right now as our bedtime story.  It makes me feel a lot better about the minimal chores I expect my children to accomplish.  They understand their charmed life and gain vision on all they really can do!

We all listen with rapt attention to the descriptions of life before electricity, refrigeration, and machinery.  Clothes are precious because the yarn comes from sheep shorn on your own farm, wool spun by diligent hands, made into fabric and sewn by expert fingers.  A rip in clothing is no excuse to throw it away, mending is a crucial skill.

The food is fascinating too.  My kids salivate when Laura Ingalls tells of donuts, oatmeal, and apple pie for breakfast…all in one day!  Life on the farm seems like an adventure especially when you get your own oxen.  Little do they know, they observe daily a life similar to the one described in Farmer Boy.

We are city folk who live in the midst of an agrarian society.  We see strange things that are only strange because we are 2 generations removed from the farm.

Yellow millet sometimes covers the medians of roads right up to the solid white line. One time we drove over some crops laid on the road. The cars driving over beat out the grain.

Vegetables like the one pictured lay out to dry in odd places along fence posts, on house roofs, anywhere there is sun really.  Pickled vegetables make up an important part of the diet. I ate a wonderful dish of dried green beans the other day.

Many homes still don’t own refrigerators in the countryside or if they do they are unplugged when someone deems it frivolous to be on.  Lamps turned on inside a house in the daytime is an anomaly and deemed quite wasteful. A neighbor was seriously perplexed one day to see our whole family playing outside and our lights on in our apartment.

Cars rarely carry only one person and most people ride bikes or use electric bikes. They, too, often hold multiple people. Frankly, bikes are generally easier to use to get around the neighborhood than cars.

The average household trash can is the size of one normally found in an American bathroom.  It is emptied once a day and mostly contains vegetable peels. Ironically, while hosting many of the world’s worst polluted cities, the average citizen produces very little waste.

A few days before Thanksgiving, my friends began inquiring if anyone was going to use the turkey carcass after our meal. She, of course, was the lucky winner. As our friends divided up the leftovers from Thanksgiving including the turkey carcass (for porridge), the broth from the turkey (for noodles), and the side dishes (to eat the next day), I admired their skill in frugality.

I often choose convenience over limiting waste. I don’t fall far from my American heritage even after more than a decade overseas.

There is much to admire in the resourcefulness needed to live a life of such little waste and such thankfulness for what is provided from God.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Thanksgiving

~ eternalwaitofglory ~ 2 Comments

Our first year overseas Thanksgiving surprised me by ranking my most difficult holiday.  My cultural adjustment curve dipped lowest right around Thanksgiving making it the perfect storm for a flurry of emotions that first year overseas. I figured I’d be sad at Christmas so Thanksgiving sadness caught me off guard.  Add to that the fact that it was my first time to celebrate a holiday away from family and…well…Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving each year since delivered a host of treasured memories.  One year I picked up our roasted turkeys at the local hotel.  The staff and I tried to figure out how I was going to take them home.  None of us considered this problem beforehand for some mysterious reason.  I ended up riding home in a taxi with two hot turkeys stuffed into plastic shopping bags!  DSC_0031

Then came the year when a terrible stomach virus passed through our midst at Thanksgiving.  26 of us gathered that year and, well, sickness spread pretty fast in that environment and through the following weekend.  Leftovers did not get eaten that year and it took me a year or so to overcome my aversion to some traditional foods.  Some even gave a very descriptive name to the weekend following Thanksgiving which I will not share here.  Let’s just say that year lives on in infamy.

A few year later we started celebrating Thanksgiving with more than just Americans.  I regret it took me that long to take Thanksgiving across cultures.  A turkey is huge but to someone who never laid eyes on anything other than a skinny chicken, a turkey is…well…it’s hard to give you a good picture of the excitement that bird caused.  My friends sampled all the traditional items and we thoroughly enjoyed our feast.

But what really moves my heart at Thanksgiving now is that I learn to celebrate Thanksgiving more and more each year.  We all love a feast and we all love food and we all love the decorations.  But, what I love more than all of that is the time of thanksgiving.  It is the point of our celebration and my non-American friends do not forget it like I am prone to do.  They do not get as distracted by pecan pie, turkey, and stuffing or American football.  I enjoy all those things but I fall prey to making them too central.

Last year I remember the tears we shed as we gave thanks to the Lord for the years events.  Every year has its pain and its joy.  We cried, we laughed and we sacrificed the sacrifice of thanksgiving.  Because giving thanks is a sacrifice.  The painful things yielded fruit and we knew it but we still cried.

These celebrations go to the heart of the first thanksgiving.  I think the Pilgrims knew the sacrifice of giving thanks in a foreign land, with foreign food, with native people in the midst of a year marked by death and suffering.  They gave thanks and I’m sure they cried in the midst of such a sacrifice.  The foods they ate were not traditional to them…I remember this as I dip into some delicious fried rice and watch my children sample lumpia from the Philippines.

This week we celebrate Thanksgiving and I anticipate spending a lot of time cooking and preparing.  But I also anticipate even more the time when we express our thankfulness with laughter and tears.