All of the food had been prepared... much like in every other family. The women gathered in the kitchen, well, because that's where most of us do our best thinking. Not all of us... but most of us. The grumbles of hungry tummies began to fill the room and it was declared time to eat. Everyone gathered in the new house and formed a smashed circle in the kitchen to bless the food. She leaned over to oldest brother and wispered, "do you want to say the prayer" and he shook his head eagerly. "Dear Jesus, Thank you for this food. Amen".
That's all it took. It doesn't have to be elaborate, just heart-felt. Our Thanksgiving prayer wasn't long. It wasn't filled with all of the things we are utterly grateful for. It wasn't scripted. It was said by a 2-year-old little boy who, from the bottom of his tiny heart, was thankful to our God.
And that was my Thanksgiving. It was simple yet filled with so many people that gut-wrenchingly loved one another.
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