For all of you who might not know it, I'm a rich man. Well, rich in friends. I am sitting in the Connecticut kitchen of one of my favorite North Carolina friends--Alecia Adams Evans--watching her buzz around in her footies (I’d offer to help her with the cooking, but everyone would be sorry). I’m savoring the smells of the turkey cooking, onions simmering on the stove, and pumpkin and southern pecan pies (or, as we call it in North Carolina—PEE-can pie) cooling down, punctuated by the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Her husband, Jeff and daughter, Eva, stayed overnight in New York City so that Eva could attend the Macy's Day Parade. They're taking the train up shortly—along with a family friend, Larry, after which time, we'll sit down together to Thanksgiving dinner.
About eight years ago, Alecia, who lived in NYC at the time, ran into a friend at a restaurant in Rhinebeck, NY. Her friend asked for her number, and Alecia shouted it to her across a crowded room. Turns out Alecia’s friend was not the only person writing her number down. A handsome, divorced artist and renown cosmetic dentist based in Manhattan, and the father of two grown children--Jeff Evans, also managed to jot her number down. He called her and explained how he had gotten her number, promised he wasn’t a stalker, and offered to meet her anywhere, anytime if only she would. Well, the rest is history. They began to date, fell in love, and got married. Alecia wanted to have a baby, and Jeff, who had had a vasectomy, had it reversed so that they could. Alecia had dreamed of living in a house with a covered bridge. Jeff managed to find a 1745 traditional New England saltbox with its own covered bridge in New Preston, Connecticut. Alecia and Jeff have decorated the house thoughtfully, creatively, lovingly . . . beautifully. Although I almost drove past it last night in the dark Connecticut night, she had left the outdoor lights on, and--and, as I started to drive past it, I somehow knew I was "home."
She showed me to my room, and I wandered around upstairs a little—enjoying all the charming touches they’d used to transform their beautiful house into a beautiful home—and imagined how at home they must feel living there, since I--as their guest--felt totally welcome. Alecia was already cooking up a storm when I arrived. She finished up all she could do in the kitchen the night before Thanksgiving, and we moved to the den, where we sat by the fire and reminisced. It was so nice to catch up. I love Alecia’s lilting, unapologetic North Carolina accent, and her southern sensibility. I find it wonderfully familiar and comforting.
Today, Thanksgiving Day, is a nippy but sunny day, and I took a walk around the brook that encircles their property. From the brook, I looked back at their sweet house, and wondered about those who had lived here before them, and if, once upon a time, another house had stood where their house now stands? What families had lived, loved and prospered here before them? How many Thanksgivings had been celebrated before ours?
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday (although I am a huge fan of Christmas music). I like that someone long ago had the good sense to create a moment to pause and give thanks. I thought about how blessed I am, and how lucky I was about to be to sit down to a lovingly-prepared meal in the home of dear friends. I thought of how many people in the world might stave off starvation with even a forkful of what I was about to enjoy in great abundance.
I had friends who went on an environmental road trip called YERT (Your Environmental Road Trip
I’ve always wondered why Presidents of the United States always end their speeches with only “God bless America.” I, too, hope that God blesses America, for I have enjoyed (and benefited mightily from) the many advantages of having lived my life in America. But I hope God will also bless the six other continents. (I expect he does, even if our Presidents forget to ask God to bless the world.)
Tonight, on CNN, there was a two-hour special about heroes from all walks of life and all parts of the world who are called to minister where it is sorely needed. Even more touching is that they do it to no acclaim--expecting no reward. They do it because it is needed. That is their calling. And almost all of them say that, in the course of giving, they get back much more than they could ever give.
So, on this Thanksgiving, I pause to give thanks for the many, many blessings in my life:
About eight years ago, Alecia, who lived in NYC at the time, ran into a friend at a restaurant in Rhinebeck, NY. Her friend asked for her number, and Alecia shouted it to her across a crowded room. Turns out Alecia’s friend was not the only person writing her number down. A handsome, divorced artist and renown cosmetic dentist based in Manhattan, and the father of two grown children--Jeff Evans, also managed to jot her number down. He called her and explained how he had gotten her number, promised he wasn’t a stalker, and offered to meet her anywhere, anytime if only she would. Well, the rest is history. They began to date, fell in love, and got married. Alecia wanted to have a baby, and Jeff, who had had a vasectomy, had it reversed so that they could. Alecia had dreamed of living in a house with a covered bridge. Jeff managed to find a 1745 traditional New England saltbox with its own covered bridge in New Preston, Connecticut. Alecia and Jeff have decorated the house thoughtfully, creatively, lovingly . . . beautifully. Although I almost drove past it last night in the dark Connecticut night, she had left the outdoor lights on, and--and, as I started to drive past it, I somehow knew I was "home."
She showed me to my room, and I wandered around upstairs a little—enjoying all the charming touches they’d used to transform their beautiful house into a beautiful home—and imagined how at home they must feel living there, since I--as their guest--felt totally welcome. Alecia was already cooking up a storm when I arrived. She finished up all she could do in the kitchen the night before Thanksgiving, and we moved to the den, where we sat by the fire and reminisced. It was so nice to catch up. I love Alecia’s lilting, unapologetic North Carolina accent, and her southern sensibility. I find it wonderfully familiar and comforting.
Today, Thanksgiving Day, is a nippy but sunny day, and I took a walk around the brook that encircles their property. From the brook, I looked back at their sweet house, and wondered about those who had lived here before them, and if, once upon a time, another house had stood where their house now stands? What families had lived, loved and prospered here before them? How many Thanksgivings had been celebrated before ours?
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday (although I am a huge fan of Christmas music). I like that someone long ago had the good sense to create a moment to pause and give thanks. I thought about how blessed I am, and how lucky I was about to be to sit down to a lovingly-prepared meal in the home of dear friends. I thought of how many people in the world might stave off starvation with even a forkful of what I was about to enjoy in great abundance.
I had friends who went on an environmental road trip called YERT (Your Environmental Road Trip
I’ve always wondered why Presidents of the United States always end their speeches with only “God bless America.” I, too, hope that God blesses America, for I have enjoyed (and benefited mightily from) the many advantages of having lived my life in America. But I hope God will also bless the six other continents. (I expect he does, even if our Presidents forget to ask God to bless the world.)
Tonight, on CNN, there was a two-hour special about heroes from all walks of life and all parts of the world who are called to minister where it is sorely needed. Even more touching is that they do it to no acclaim--expecting no reward. They do it because it is needed. That is their calling. And almost all of them say that, in the course of giving, they get back much more than they could ever give.
So, on this Thanksgiving, I pause to give thanks for the many, many blessings in my life:
- how rich my life is in good friends;
- that we have a new, and wonderful, intelligent President of our country;
- how I was fortunate to grow up in a loving home;
- that I had two amazing dogs once--toy poodles named Maxie and Beau who taught me how to be a better person;
- for those who leave the world a better place than they found it;
- for the human body that does all it can (sometimes, in spite of us) to keep us up and running;
- for the human spirit that defies the odds every day in every way;
- for music and its ability to bring hearts together when mere words fail us;
- for love—for I cannot imagine a world without it;
- for education, so that knowledge can replace fear—and we can learn from our mistakes, and do better
- and for the world--which I hope will be a better place because of our having been in it.
4 comments:
Lovely, Phil. The world is definitely a better place for having you in it. I'm so blessed to have you for a friend.
What a beautiful post. We also count you as one of our blessings.
What a thoughtful and moving post, Phil. Thanks.
Lauren
Oh, honey,
I just loved this meditation. I'm so happy you had that wonderful Thanksgiving to create lovely memories. We enjoyed a wonderful meal lovingly prepared by Jean and Brooks and we felt blessed to have our family together--the first time since Jessica left for college. Amidst all that is happening in our world (what an exciting time to be living!), we are blessed indeed to be able to continue our lives in gratitude and thanksgiving for all that has been given us. As my dear friend, Pernessa, always reminds me; "for those to whom much is given, much is expected!
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