Being Thankful In So Many Different Ways by Cindy Oriol

Psalm 100:4 tells us to “enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name.” NIV When you think of the meaning of thanksgiving what words come to mind?”

For me, some of the words I can think of are being grateful, blessed because of the Lord’s abiding love for me, precious in his sight and Child of God.

Some of my blessings are my wonderful soulmate for almost seventeen years, my beautiful girls, my precious grandchildren, my family and my extended brothers and sisters of Christ.

Other ways I am thankful for are: After being in and out of a wheelchair for several years, I am finally out and using a cane, the healings of my pancreatic and spleen and breast cancers plus several other health issues.

Have you ever had a Thanksgiving that you will never forget? Mine was the year without the turkey. I stayed up most of the night with my mom, helping her make her home-made dressing. Earlier that day, she told me to lay out several pieces of bread so they could harden, just enough to be crunchy. This made the stuffing hold together better.

I remember helping mom butter that big bird that weighed around twenty-six pounds. The butter was so slippery as she held it while I covered each part. I was so glad I used a paper towel to smear it on with. Once we were finished, we put it in our heavy metal roasting pan and into the oven.

One by one of my large family of three brothers and one sister, plus mom and dad of course, started arriving. They liked to come earlier to help with the other preparations for the rest of the buffet.

Mom was busy with the cranberry sauce. I loved watching the sauce slide out into one large cylinder onto her favorite tray with the decorations of cornucopias and then she would slice it. She was also well known in our family for her delicious fruit salad of grapes, apples, mixed fruit, pineapples, and peaches.

Several of us girls divided the preparation of the other foods. I went looking in the china cabinet for mom’s large Corningware dish with blue flowers on it to put the mashed potatoes in. I also found her heavy glass platter with a large turkey stencil in the center.

When the potatoes were finished cooking and being mashed and while no one was looking, I added extra butter to them to make them taste creamier. The creamier the better.

The turkey had been in the oven roasting for several hours when suddenly we smelled something burning from the kitchen. Mom grabbed her checkered red and black potholders and pulled open the oven door just a crack and saw that the turkey that we all had our mouths watering for was on fire.

Black smoke was billowing out everywhere and our turkey, that had once been white at the beginning, was now charred coal black. Mom yelled to my dad that some of the grease had splashed onto the element and caused a fire. As soon as my brother opened the back door, my dad hurled that big, black bird into our backyard. I yelled, “It’s a drone, it’s a plane, no it’s a flying big, black bird.” We had literally just watched the most important part of our Thanksgiving meal fly out the door, soar through the sky, and then drop on the ground.

I would give anything to be able to celebrate Thanksgiving with my parents now, but they have both gone to Heaven. I am surely blessed to have such a beautiful family.

Thinking back on one of my husband’s and my favorite Thanksgivings was the year we were truly blessed by serving food to the homeless at a church downtown. Upon arriving there we weren’t really assigned to any particular job, so we just positioned ourselves in the back of the tables and began scooping up the food of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, corn, sweet potatoes, dressing and of course my favorite, the cranberry sauce. To top off their meal, we gave them a drink and a large slice of cake.

After the line began slowing down some, we both got a plate of food and sat down at a table next to a man from Africa. He began telling us about his struggles while living there. He was so happy to be living in the United States and was proud to be an American citizen. I loved listening to his stories. They were full of so much compassion and of fear.

We found out he was a man of God, so as we were all talking, John recited Proverbs 3:5-6, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.” (NIV) And also, Philippians 4:13, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (NIV)

We asked him if we could pray for him and he answered,” Actually, may I say the prayer?” It was so beautiful and meaningful. We could hear how much he loved God as he expressed his words. We remained at his table for a little while longer and then we excused ourselves and went home. Have you ever spent such a blessed day that you didn’t want it to end? That’s how it was for my husband and me. On our way home, I looked over at him and he had tears rolling down his cheeks. I almost missed seeing them because my eyes were blurry from crying as well. I reached over and grabbed his hand so gently and said, “I feel so blessed.” He repeated the same words to me. We were so overtaken with pure joy that the Lord had used us to be his servers.

I read somewhere that if we don’t do the will of God, then we aren’t using the gifts that he has blessed us with. He put us here on earth to be his hands and feet to spread his “Great News” on how to live eternally with him by accepting his son “Jesus.”

As a child while growing up, I was very shy, but now that I am a grown woman, nothing can or ever will stop me from telling others about Jesus. In John 14:6, Jesus tells us, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (NIV)