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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Thanksgiving (04/18/05)
Everyone called it the "five mile hill". As a child i simply thought the hill to be five miles long. In my imagination that hill stretched on forever and five miles to my child's mind was indeed forever. I know not how far that hill in its cradle of trees actually crawls but the five mile hill is so called because it makes its descent approximately five miles from my home town. At seventeen i simply could not wait to flee the town's confining fetters and live the college life of freedom; having matured i yearn instead for its embrace, to be encircled by its simplicity and its leisurely gait. Each year about the time when the leaves are awash with a delight of reds and oranges and are brandished in gold, this town however was neither detested by me nor longed for; rather it wore an entirely different face. It was not the autumn palette, nor was it even the greys and blues that will have taken their dance together earlier in that night sky, the dance that quickened something deep inside of me, somehow making me feel more alive; no, it was that illustrious five mile hill that spelled home.

Excitement peaked even as the hill peaked and each of the five miles brought with it another wistful sentiment. Trees bowed and waved in the wind a welcome home and as i drew my car into town, lights in the windows of friendly buildings winked at me. When my feet finally swept up the walkway to my folks' home nostalgia hugged me tightly, gifting me some warmth even as the chill air blushed my cheeks.

I opened the door to another world. An incredible wave rushed over me; my senses awash with spices both savory and sweet. I gasped in pungent air as if to pleasantly drown in sage as it rivaled cinnamon and nutmeg as it mingled with ginger. Pies lay on the counter to cool, teasing smiles cut into their buttery gilt crusts. In the oven the turkey was aglow with its golden earthy browns as it sizzled its familiar melody. Heat radiated from the oven chasing the final remains of the frigid autumn air from me. In the background was the welcome din of voices, of laughter, and of love.
It was thanksgiving and i was home.

Each year many of us will celebrate Thanksgiving. Our children will run amok gobbling and bringing home cut and pasted turkeys and lopsided pilgrims with obnoxiously large belt buckles. And yet amidst all the silliness the day has remained one which celebrates family togetherness as well as gratitude. After eating their fill of delectable delights some families will settle in front of their variously sized television screens and plug themselves into sporting events or they will engage in board games or card games into the wee hours of the night. Some families will hold hands in prayer and everyone, including four year old Josephine, will share things that they are thankful for. Still, as varied as their family time is, many will close their eyes in sleep this evening with the wish in their heart that they could celebrate Thanksgiving every week.

Wouldn't it be grand, to have Thanksgiving every week?

It is not only the fantasy of children's cartoons or comedic films that will offer us the opportunity to do such a thing. Perhaps lain out before you is not the full course turkey dinner, grandma's pumpkin pie to follow, that you are accustomed to. Perhaps the meal that you shall be served, though a much simpler fare, shall instead be prepared with everlastingly more love. Perhaps though, the bread and the wine that you shall enjoy will taste just as sweet. Perhaps there will not be the frenzied cheering of a football game, or the relationship teetering game of Canasta, or even the ghastly kisses from Great Aunt Ethel. Perhaps though, there will be much, much more. Perhaps instead you will rejoice together in devotion and in gratitude to the One who has given something far greater to be thankful for. Perhaps, instead of stomachs aching, hands desperatly reaching for the latest brand of antacid promising relief, you are rather promised a relief of a very different kind - to thirst no more; forgiveness of your sins; abundant blessings, an unwavering unconditional love. Perhaps this is altogether a different manner of "fullness", one that you cannot even comprehend.

Perhaps this is even better than grandma's pumpkin pie.
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Member Comments
Member
Date
Carol Dee Meeks
04/27/05
I could smell the Thanksgiving meal as I read your article. I enjoyed it very much and the message came through loud and clear. A nice write.
donna robinson
04/28/05
I thought you did a wonderful job here of letting the reader remember with you how it felt to leave home and yet how wonderful it was to come home. Not the town, I like that you did not make that the focus, but rather what the loved inside the home that greeted you each time. And yes, like other holidays that were once celebrated with great faith, we slowly see everything simply being another holiday we don't have to work. You helped me to remember there are other reasons to be thankful
Madonna Hooper
04/28/05
I love your descriptions but most of all love the lesson contained in the last paragraph. Truly Jesus is the bread of life. Loved the idea of 'fullness' being compared.
Val Clark
04/30/05
Ditto to the comments already made. Loved your inagery and the reference to the dancing autumn palette. One iddy biddy thing, you use the words 'it is' twice in the same sentence. Probably could reword that.