The Lost Plate

I remember Thanksgiving when I was a little girl.

Our Interdenominational Church sometimes had a service with the Baptists and the Methodists (Hogan and Spring Glen).  I remember that we always sang Come Ye Thankful People Come and We gather together.   And I remember that we always went to my maternal grandparents for Thanksgiving dinner.  I can almost smell the yeast rolls my grandma Nesmith was famous for and I know that she worked for days to prepare a feast.

I think I was in the first grade when I first learned this song "Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go…".  We always lived in the same neighborhood; no river, no woods, no snow and certainly not in a horse drawn sleigh.

And we lived in Florida.

That was no deterrent for us.  We sang the song with great gusto.

I remember when I was a young bride and we went to my husband's family home because he was the only child and my parents had three children still at home. Even though I missed my family, I loved Thanksgiving with my in laws.   My mother in law was a wonderful cook and I loved her dressing and green beans and corn. 

Three children later, we moved to North Carolina where my in-laws lived.  We saw them often.  We planned a trip.  We would come to Florida for Thanksgiving.

I was really excited.

But that trip was not to be.  An over anxious toddler pulled the cup of hot chocolate from where I thought he couldn't reach.  He and I would spend Thanksgiving at Lexington Memorial Hospital.

So my parents packed up my siblings and the food they had already purchased and brought Thanksgiving to us.

Many Thanksgivings came and went.  Twenty years of Thanksgiving at my parents' home which now was  Grandmother's house.

And then a very strange Thanksgiving Day.  The plan had been for my husband, Rich and I to enjoy a trip to San Francisco during Thanksgiving week.   That was not to be.  Ten days before Thanksgiving, Rich suddenly died. 

How could it be thanksgiving?

That was 16 years ago.  Some of my children and I went to Cracker Barrel for lunch and then shared dessert with family friends.

And now it's my house that's over the river and through the woods.

Except…

We (grandmother, great grandmother and the aunts, uncles and cousins) are going over the river and through the woods to the home of my son and his family.

How fun.

Three very different memories. But the one common factor is this – we are sharing in a time of being thankful.

I think I was in about the sixth grade when a friend gave my mother a beautiful wooden plate that hung in our kitchen for a long long time. These words were on the plate:  "In everything give thanks"

I'm disappointed that we don't know what happened to that plate. 

I am grateful however that the truth that was on that plate has stayed with me.