Thanks Giving
Thu 25 Nov 2010 Filed in: Reflections | Grief Notes
We have so much to be thankful for. I have both heard and used those words countless times, but as I heard them again this morning, they carried a deeper than usual impact. They are, of course, true. The Giver of every good gift has given, and I have received. In abundance. But I was neither the speaker nor the subject of those words this time.
This Thanksgiving Day began with a phone call. I had officiated at her husband’s funeral two decades ago. I had tied the knot when she remarried. I had heard the stories of assorted family tragedies and walked through deep waters with her family whose waters seemed deeper than most. This morning she had called to tell me that her adult daughter had died early this morning. She asked me the obvious gut-wrenching question: Why did God take my daughter? I have asked the same question, but I cannot answer it. The only adequate answer to why is Who.
Her Thanksgiving Day had begun the same way my Fathers Day had ended, with news of the death of a child. How does one give thanks against the backdrop of such a loss? While the loss is raw and the pain is deep and the tears flow, can one give thanks? Sometimes thanks giving is easy, but not for her, not today. And yet the words are hers: We have so much to be thankful for. Such thanks are a costly gift, a gift that gives meaning to the phrase a sacrifice of praise.
I like Thanksgiving, and I like thanks giving. It is a time for counting blessings (as if they could be counted), and it is a time for counting losses. And it is a time to discover afresh the wonder that no matter how deep and painful the losses, they do not eclipse the thanks-prompting grace of God.
This Thanksgiving Day began with a phone call. I had officiated at her husband’s funeral two decades ago. I had tied the knot when she remarried. I had heard the stories of assorted family tragedies and walked through deep waters with her family whose waters seemed deeper than most. This morning she had called to tell me that her adult daughter had died early this morning. She asked me the obvious gut-wrenching question: Why did God take my daughter? I have asked the same question, but I cannot answer it. The only adequate answer to why is Who.
Her Thanksgiving Day had begun the same way my Fathers Day had ended, with news of the death of a child. How does one give thanks against the backdrop of such a loss? While the loss is raw and the pain is deep and the tears flow, can one give thanks? Sometimes thanks giving is easy, but not for her, not today. And yet the words are hers: We have so much to be thankful for. Such thanks are a costly gift, a gift that gives meaning to the phrase a sacrifice of praise.
I like Thanksgiving, and I like thanks giving. It is a time for counting blessings (as if they could be counted), and it is a time for counting losses. And it is a time to discover afresh the wonder that no matter how deep and painful the losses, they do not eclipse the thanks-prompting grace of God.