In search of Thanksgiving peace

That's the point of Thanksgiving, isn't it? To break bread together, to join with each other over a table of plenty (or at least, we hope, "enough"), to mend fences, to heal wounds, and to come together.

But we live in a rough time. Post-election, wounds are still raw. Gains and losses are still bitter. And many peoples' Thanksgivings will be times of strife, if we're not careful. So, then, what to do?

I'd hope that we'll seek the more excellent way (I Corinthians 12:31), or in other words, the way of love. I started this month with All Saints and All Souls Day references to honoring our ancestors. Yet for many younger people the necessity of dealing with still-living ancestors and/or elders can become quite a trial.

The reverse quite often is true, too. Older people may have little patience with the things their younger family members value. This is mostly because they don't understand them, and may even be afraid of them. But they, too, need to remember the way of love.

Both sides seem all too short on respect for the other, too much of the time. But the way of love is a way of respect. It's an attitude that sets aside the assumptions of failings and seeks out, then abides in the places of agreement. A good start is simply to listen. To seek to hear, more than to be heard.

Only by setting part of our pride, our sense of controlling the situation, and our drive to force others to agree with us, do we find a place of mutual acceptance and peace. It behooves us to remember Wayne Dyer's thought.

Only when we're willing to step back from conflict can we truly be at peace with each other. Unfortunately, the hosts too often have to intervene with "rules of conduct in our house." One of my Beloved's elders banished all talk of religion and politics from her household on Thanksgiving. It worked, because they all respected Grandma.

But however we do it, we must remember and honor the soul-work of the table, the giving work of the cook(s), and the purpose of this day.

All of us have more to be thankful for than we have reasons to despise each other. Let us strive to remember that, and to act on it.

IMAGES: Many thanks to The Way International for the "Breaking Bread Together" graphic; to Oprah's Pinterest page, for the quote-image from Iyanla Vanzant; to Quotemaster, for both the quotes from Gertrude Stein and from Gloria Steinem; to QuotePixel for the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi; to Brainy Quote for the wisdom from Wayne Dyer; and to the World Food Program USA on Pinterest, via World Vision and its HungerFree initiative for the Laurie Colwin quote. Many thanks to all of them!

For My Family

Day Two: Grateful for my Family

We humans are shaped and often defined by our families, for both well and ill. We can inherit everything--and anything--from our forebears:

• Genetic vulnerabilities or resistances to diseases
• Family recipes (be they sublime--or dreadful!) 
• Attitudes (political or otherwise)
• Catchphrases (do you ever hear your parent's or grandparent's voice coming out of your own mouth?)
• Childrearing practices (boy, can that be a two-edged sword! For you, and your kids!)
• Knicknacks (from worthless dust-collectors to priceless heirlooms)
• Traditions, (for holidays, special occasions, or anything at all)
• Wealth (along with its entanglements.)
• Poverty (different kinds of entanglements, but at least as many, here)
• Or, all too often, dysfunctional patterns that over time can take on the likeness of a "generational curse," if we're not careful, thoughtful, and brutally self-reflective.

Blessings? Curses? A little of both? Yes. Families can be all of those. They even can be all of those at the same time.

If you regard your family-of-origin with little short of horror, I get it.

If you see them mainly as a pain in the patoot but you love them anyway, you're in good company throughout most of the planet.

If you never knew them, I offer my deepest condolences--and pray you may be empowered to surround yourself with the kind of friends who love you like the most positive kind of brothers and sisters.

But if you're like me, you not only remember your siblings and parents--you still have at least some of them around to deal with, care about, and/or worry about.

A bit rude, maybe, but more accurate than not.

In my case I have a house I have almost reclaimed from the hoarder-esque piles of inherited household goods after some eight estate liquidations since 2005, a recently-turned-93-year-old father, a Beloved who lost his 89-year-old mother this year, and two adult children with a variety of strengths and challenges--plus assorted canine, feline, piscine, and even Eublepharine household members with challenges of their own.

They are, in many ways, the reason I get up in the morning (well, them and the novel!), the delight of my life, and also the sand in my gears. I wouldn't trade them for anything, and I know I'm incredibly lucky to have them. Every single one I've lost, I've lost under extreme protest. Every single one I haven't yet lost, I cherish with all my heart.

IMAGES:  The "Seven Days of Gratitude" design is my own creation, for well or ill. If for some reason You'd like to use it, please feel free to do so, but I request attribution and a link back to this post. Many thanks to Boardofwisdom, via Your English Library's summary page about About a Boy, for the quotation image from Manwadu Ndife, and to iFunny for the graphic about family being like underpants.