A Little Thanksgiving

This picture is from Fort Donelson, Tennessee and is on the monument to the soldiers who died there. It was the first of the Ulysses Grant's successful campaign against the South. Terry, my husband and I traveled there this Autumn, and we were moved by the beauty of the spot and the sadness that lingers there. We are thankful to be Americans, to be free.


Mrs. Clonmacnoise rang the lunch bell and silenced all the children. She stood in front of the group and got their attention. When all the children were quiet, she said softly, “We’re going to do something different today with after lunch grace. When I count to three, I want you to say, ‘Thank you God’ as loud as you can holler and then be quiet and listen.”

The children all looked around. Some giggled at each other. Some whispered to his or her neighbor but all kept their eyes on Mrs. Clonmacnoise to make sure she wasn’t kidding, because she’s the one who always makes everyone quiet.

“One, two, three,” said Mrs. Clonmacnoise, and the children all called out “Thank you God,” as loud as they could taking the roof nearly off the building. Then they were quiet.

“Do you think God heard you?”

A lot of the children looked at one another and finally a full agreement sounded among them. “Yes,” they chanted.

“God always hears you. It’s always nice to thank God for all that He does for you. Now it’s time to go outside and play.”

Mrs. Clonmacnoise went outside with the children thinking about all the things she was thankful to God for: the chance to live, her faith, her husband, her four children, her daughter and son in law, and her six grandchildren – two on the way - and the wonderful old home that draws them home on the holidays.

“Life is a very beautiful thing,” she chanted at Mrs. St. Peter’sburg who agreed.

“It is, and the children think so too. Just look at their smiles. They love just running and playing in the sunshine and knowing that the days here will be filled with love and fun.”

“Are they making any connection with the first Thanksgiving?” asked Mrs. Clonmacnoise.

“Well, Ryan said he was grateful for the pilgrims who came over on the Cauliflower.”

“Well it’s always nice to know that he’s thinking.”

“The question is, Mrs. Clonmacnoise, about what. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

“Well, he’s got a nice family, so he’s one of the lucky ones. I always feel sorry for the children who seem to have the least. You know, no real family, no ties, no expectations.”

“That’s the hard part. When there are no expectations, no continuity, no family life, these kids just drift emotionally. You can hear the lack of foundation in what they say. Their conversation amounts to fantasy and super heroes. It’s all fiction made from TV and movies. It’s made to be important because what should be important is missing in their young lives.”

“Yes, and there are some real foundation blocks missing in a lot of their lives,” lamented Mrs. St. Peter’sburg.

“There are, but luckily, we’re a durable lot. If we weren’t those pilgrims would have never made it, cauliflower or not.”

Just then Josie came running over and threw her arms around Mrs. Clonmacnoise. “I love you,” she said brightly with a big smile and a toss of her bright red hair. She ran off to play.

“That’s grace in abundance,” said Mrs. St. Peter’sburg looking after Josie, “And of all our treasures, the blessed love of a child is the thing we should be most grateful for.”

“It’s a lovely reminder that God really does hear us.”