Isaiah 2:1-5, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:36-44
Last year, I spent Thanksgiving with my family for the first time in many years. The main festivity occurred in the home of my aunt and uncle, the only home in which I remember them living. The cold weather that surrounded their home was kept at a distance by the warmth of the spirits that resided within those walls. As the seventeen of us began to congregate, the world seemed to slow down. We had set a time for dinner, but it was, definitely, approximate. At some point, we found ourselves gathered around two tables. For once, I was not at the kid’s table. My cousins, my parents, my grandmother, and all their progeny ate quite a bit, but as always there was plenty to take home. The food lasted for days. That day of celebration and feasting rekindled many great Thanksgiving memories: from eating turkey, spending time with family, watching television, and telling stories. As always, it was a time to accomplish much by doing little. I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything.
