The Day Before Thanksgiving

November 27, 2024 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

The day before Thanksgiving.

That doesn’t sound right to me. I wonder if it bothers anyone else.

The Lovely Lady tells me I don’t need to overthink things. She knows I will anyway. I come by it honestly. It’s in the genes, you might say.

My father is the one I blame for this trait. Logic was his domain. Every year on what most of us would call his birthday, he’d inform us he was celebrating the anniversary of his birthday. Clearly, you can’t literally revisit your birthday—it being in the dim, distant past.

Then, he would go even further and explain that, in reality, one was beginning the next year in the sequence of years. If you turned thirty, that was the day you entered your thirty-first year—having completed the thirtieth already. Then, if he was really feeling curmudgeonly, he’d remind you that technically you needed to add nine months to the age anyway since the gestation period was arguably a season of your life.

I’d like to tell you I’m not quite as pedantic as that, but in my overthinking brain, it bothers me a bit to think that only one day in the year should be recognized as Thanksgiving.

And, now that I let my eyes drift to the words I’ve written above, I realize I’ve departed so far from my original intention for this little essay that I may have already lost the plot. It’s a common problem for me.

Now, where was I?

Oh yes. The day before Thanksgiving.

Somehow, I think it’s no mistake that a close family member is scheduled to have a consultation with her surgeon on this day to discuss the timetable for removal of a mass in her abdomen.

I was to go to the appointment with her until my doctor added an appointment at another hospital for an MRI for me. Yes. On the day before Thanksgiving. He says we need confirmation that I actually have a brain in my head. There’s never been any convincing proof of the fact, to my knowledge.

And, the other family member who stepped in to take the family member to her doctor’s visit is already dealing with bad news for others in his own circle.

But, give it one more day and then we’re going to be thankful. We’ll gather the rest of the family around the loaded table and get in the spirit of things—being thankful.

Just not today.

Somehow, that doesn’t seem right.

Is the day before the official holiday going to be hard? It does seem likely. Biopsy reports and anticipation of surgery and, possibly a chemo regimen are hard. Hard.

Lying with one’s head in a cage listening to the clicks, the whirs, and the bangs of the machine surrounding you can’t be comfortable. It might be considered hard, too.

I talked with at least three friends today who told me of family members dealing with the “hard”. Many I know (and you do, too) are anticipating a holiday with empty chairs at the table—chairs that had someone they love sitting in them a year ago—three years ago—a decade ago. It doesn’t matter.

Grief is hard.

None of what I write here is going to make the hard any easier. None of these words are intended to diminish, and certainly, not to make light of the pain.

I know this about being thankful: It allows us to see a way through the hard to the future. But, when all we can see is the hard and the pain, we can’t see past it to anything but the now.

The hard now. Today.

But, today is not all there is. It’s not.

His mercies are new every morning. Every one of them.

“Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18, NLT)

I’ve never been quite sure I like these words penned by the apostle for whom I am named. But, they give me hope. They tell me I belong.

To Him. The One who has planned good things for me. And for you. Things to help us, not to hurt us.

I will live in that hope—will walk in that hope.

It’s not the day before Thanksgiving.

It is a day of thanksgiving. Another one.

Like yesterday was. And, like tomorrow will be.

I’m giving thanks.

Today.

I hope you will, too.

“And now let the weak say ‘I am strong’;
Let the poor say ‘I am rich’,
Because of what the Lord has done for us.
Give thanks.”
(from Give Thanks, by Henry Smith)

“I will thank the Lord with all my heart!
I will tell about all your amazing deeds.
I will be happy and rejoice in you.
I will sing praises to you, O Most High.”
(Psalm 9: 1-2, NET)

Nourishment

September 28, 2022September 28, 2022 ~ Paul Phillips ~ 3 Comments

I have words and phrases stuck inside my head that will never leave me, no matter how many times I take them out and share them.

It’s not a bad thing for some of them. They deserve another opportunity to be aired—to influence listeners. Those—the profitable ones—I think I’ll hang onto and give them their freedom once in a while.

But, some words need to be kept under wraps, in chains, and in the dark where they can do no further harm. They hurt going in, but I’ll not set them free to hunt any more prey. At least, that’s my intent. I forget sometimes and leave the door open for them. I wish I weren’t so forgetful.

I do love the good words that remind me of people in my life. Many of them remind me of folks who have dropped out of the story temporarily, so there’s a sadness mixed with joy when I pass them out again.

It happened again yesterday.

I was talking with a friend who isn’t doing so well right now. His is a temporary setback and he knows it. Hoping to encourage him, I laughed as I shared a favorite phrase of my father-in-law’s, one I heard often over the nearly thirty years I was privileged to know him.

They were the words he uttered often when asked how he was doing.

“I’m able to be up and around and take nourishment.”

Did I say I laughed as I said them? As I remember, I always did back when he spoke them to me or whoever had posed the question to him, too. It just seemed such a strange way to make small talk.

The old man has been gone for most of seventeen years now. Seventeen years of silence from him, and I’m just realizing the deeper meaning of the words. Words I’ve saved up for times when humor was needed.

But, that’s not what they are, is it?

I’ve come to realize the deep gratitude, the thankfulness, this curious phrase expresses. To anyone who is really listening.

“How are you?”

It’s a question inviting a litany of complaints—a laundry list of aches, pains, and privations. Frequently, those are exactly what we get (or give).

That, or we tell the standard lie and simply reply, “Fine.”

My father-in-law headed them both off and offered his perspective of gratitude for the small things.

“I have what I need. I’m able to get out of my bed in the morning and I can eat the food on my plate.”

What a great attitude! It didn’t mean there weren’t difficulties. It didn’t even mean he was necessarily happy with his life. But, he was grateful for what he did have.

Did I say it was gratitude for the small things?

I should have said they were the essentials.

Just recently, I saw a video in which an oncologist revealed what he believed were the two most important things for his cancer patients to do. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

The two things were to keep moving and to keep eating.

Easy peasy, you say?

Not so much when your body is wracked with nausea and pain from both the disease and the treatment for it. It’s not all that easy for the elderly to do those two things consistently. Or even for folks with auto-immune disease. Or, for those who suffer from depression.

Essentials for life.

Exactly what he said (the Lovely Lady’s father).

“I’m able to be up and around and take nourishment.”

Basics.

Move. Eat.

And, be grateful we can do them.

I think I’ll do all three today.

I hope you do, too.

Good words.

For in Him we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, “We are his offspring.”
(Acts 17:28, NIV)

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold
In settings of silver.
(Proverbs 25:11, NKJV)

But the Thorns!

August 28, 2017August 28, 2017 ~ Paul Phillips ~ 2 Comments

What a beautiful tree! It’s absolutely the perfect place to put a treehouse!

A few of us were spending the morning helping our friends move. It wasn’t that big a deal—loading a U-Haul truck with furniture and boxes, along with a pickup truck or three—since we were only going a mile away.

Still, we welcomed a minute to stand in the cool shade of the stately tree and savor a long drink of cold water. It had been a morning filled with laughter and joviality as we labored together, but hard work in the sunshine seems to be a recipe for sweat and thirst. We stood under the branches of the flourishing tree and were refreshed—by the water and the shade.

Looking up, I noticed the configuration of the sturdy branches where they joined the massive trunk. The branches all came out of the trunk at something close to a right angle before sweeping upward, where they spread out to the leafy extremity of the tree’s crown.

Ah! At sixty years old, I would be stretching credulity to claim the title of tree climber, but in a past life, I would have been up that tree in a minute.

Perfection! What a magnificent tree!

The children quite obviously shared my opinion; one of the taller boys was already giving the younger ones a leg up onto the lower limbs. Within moments, the branches were teeming with youngsters above our heads.

What a delight! What I wouldn’t give to have such a tree in my yard for my grandchildren to experience. Why, if it were in my yard, I might give it a shot myself—when the neighbors weren’t around to see my foolishness, of course.

And, the possibilities for a tree house! Although, it seems such dreams may actually be governed by building codes and city ordinances in this bureaucratic age in which we live.

Still. A tree house!

What a perfect tree!

The teenaged young man who had lifted up the younger kids was still standing nearby as I expressed my admiration. Even though he is just moving into the house, he had done his homework regarding the majestic tree.

Yes. This tree is a sweetgum. So are those next door.

He tossed the words out carelessly, as if they weren’t nearly the sternest denunciation he could make of the ancient giant. Perhaps—in fairness—to him they weren’t.

What a shame. How unfortunate that some uneducated homeowner had planted such an unsuitable specimen right in the middle of his front yard.

I looked around in the leafy ends of the branches. Sure enough, hanging down, I spotted them. Those spiny seed pods! Horrible things!

I wouldn’t have that tree in my front yard! Not for anything!

You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? Go ahead. Laugh all you want. I hate cleaning up those spiny things. They drop off the tree in the fall and the yard will be full of them.

Did you know, the sweetgum tree is often and vociferously named by homeowners as one of the worst trees to have in your yard? It’s all because of those spiny seed pods, gumballs, some folks call them, which might even be dangerous. They roll underneath your shoe and make you twist your ankle. They hurt your head if you happen to be under the tree when one falls. And, don’t even think about going barefoot in the yard where one of those horrible trees is growing.

You’re still laughing. You should be.

Moments before, I declared the tree perfect. That’s right. Perfect.

As in, every good gift and every perfect gift is a gift from above, coming down to us from God, the Father of Lights. (James 1:17)

And now? If it were gift-wrapped and planted in my front yard, I’d turn up my nose at the horrible thing.

Silly, isn’t it? The tree is magnificent, with spreading limbs and foliage providing wonderful shade, growing straight up to heavens, fifty or sixty feet above my head. Yet, here I stand, repenting of my admiration for it because of a little seed pod an inch and a half in diameter.

I think they call this incongruous. It certainly demonstrates a lack of perspective on my part.

It seems to be a common trait for humanity. My mind jumps to examples of our fickle approval or disapproval of other people and situations. Yours will too, given a moment or two of introspection.

Perhaps, there is even one which hits very close to home, maybe even painfully so. I know I have too many of my own.

And, even though I’m glad for the company in my foolishness, I’m disappointed in myself—and us. I’m even more than a little embarrassed.

How is it we stand face to face with amazing blessings which we recognize clearly but, having noticed the tiniest of flaws, can see nothing else?

And soon, the imperfection becomes an annoyance. As the annoyance grows, our sense of being blessed diminishes.

Before long, we have exchanged our blessings for curses, our joys for anger, our gifts for punishments.

It’s impossible to be grateful when one is critical of the gift they’ve been given.

It's impossible to be grateful when one is critical of the gift. Share on X

He gives good gifts. They are gifts which bring joy. They are gifts which build character. Sometimes, both at the same time.

Our old friend, Job, understood it when He answered his wife, who wanted him to curse God for the disasters which had destroyed the life he once had known.

Does it seem right to accept good from God and not the hardships also? That’s foolishness! (Job 2:10)

I understand. A spiny seed pod on a beautiful tree is not the same as having your entire family wiped out and losing all your wealth. Still, the principle applies.

God is for us.

He intends good. For us.

He does good. For us.

If He is for us, what do the inconveniences matter?

If He is for us, we can abide the testing, the hard spots.

The apostle, for whom I am named, said he considered these passing hardships as not worth comparing to the glorious expectation of what will one day be ours. (Romans 8:18)

I’m with him. At least, I want to be.

One day—on that day—all of the things we complained and griped about here will seem as a hazy fog blown away by the morning breezes. Gone in an instant, leaving no proof that they ever existed.

He gives good gifts. Good.

And, we are forever grateful.

I’d still keep the rake handy for the spiny seed pods, though.

I beg your pardon. I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine, there’s got to be a little rain sometime.
(from Rose Garden ~ Joe South ~ © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC ~ All rights reserved.)

But Job replied, “You talk like a foolish woman. Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?” So in all this, Job said nothing wrong.
(Job 2:10 ~ NLT ~ Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. All rights reserved.)

He Rides Upon the Storm

October 20, 2016October 20, 2016 ~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

A dark and stormy night, it was.

I had intended to ask Snoopy for help with my opening sentence, but he is nowhere to be found, probably hiding from the frightening flashes and booms himself. It was indeed, a dark and stormy night.

Was. A shockingly short, but powerfully reassuring, word.

Was. Past tense. Over. Done with.

Right now, there is not a creature to be seen anywhere. All of them took shelter from the noise and commotion. But, come morning, the skies will be alive with birds and flying insects. The air will fairly ring with the celebration of re-creation.

The dogs in my backyard, cowering now between the floor joists of the storage building (their sturdy house seems not to be substantial enough for their reassurance during a thunderstorm), will cover their owner with muddy paw and nose prints as they leap and cavort at his appearing.

For now, the rain falls, a steady cascade of water from the heavens.

A gentle rumble of thunder bullies its way across the sky above, bringing to mind the assault of powers from on high against these earth-bound edifices only moments past.

I sit in the quiet and give thanks for the calm, life-giving draught that enriches the earth below. Mankind has done it from time immemorial. Water gives life. When it is withheld, death will follow. How would we not be grateful?

But, as I sit, listening thankfully to the gentle and rhythmic thump of rain on the metal roof above me, I am uneasy. I have a sense of restlessness, as if I’ve forgotten something important.

Now, what was it?

Perhaps, I want to forget.

The thunder grumbles across the wide expanse above again and I remember. I might want to forget, but the question will not be silenced that easily.

If God is in the rain, that peaceful, life-giving source of fresh hope, where is He when the storms blow in?

As does all of nature, we cower from the raging lightning and wind-whipped raindrops. The explosions of thunder do no real harm, save to terrify and remind us of the potential for death and destruction that awaits right outside our hiding place.

Why don’t we give thanks for the storms?

Why don't we give thanks for the storms? Share on X

I don’t love storms. Once, I thought I did. I was younger then.

Now, I know their potential for destruction. I realize the repairs that will need to be effected after they have had their way. Insurance adjusters will be called; shingles will be tacked down; broken branches will be hauled away.

I can’t help it. I’m humming with the Fab Four as they declare whimsically, “I’m fixing the hole where the rain gets in, and stops my mind from wandering.”

When we are made aware of an issue, failure to address it only guarantees we’ll be able to accomplish nothing else until it is repaired. Water dripping into a bucket is a distraction that will not be ignored.

The realization is profound. Perhaps, you already see it.

The result of the storm is that we work to make things better. Stronger. More able to withstand the next storm. Regardless of the hardship in between, the storm leaves us better off.

Storms motivate us to become better than we were.

Gentle rains merely make us more comfortable.

Thankful, but comfortable with what we have grown accustomed to.

Somehow, better seems to be preferable to comfortable.

Better is preferable to comfortable. Share on X

The brother of our Savior, assured us that the result of these storms will not only be better. He claims the result will, in the end, be perfection. (James 1:2-3)

Perfection. We’re not there yet. Well, I’m not, anyway.

The storms keep pounding.

I’m trying to be grateful for them, too. In everything, be thankful. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

God is in the storm.

Perfection is around the corner. Or, perhaps the one after that.

Oh. I’ll keep fixing the holes, too.

You know—my mind still needs to wander.

You lay out the rafters of your home in the rain clouds.
You make the clouds your chariot;
you ride upon the wings of the wind.
The winds are your messengers;
flames of fire are your servants.
(Psalm 104:3,4 ~ NLT)

At your rebuke the waters fled,
    at the sound of your thunder they took to flight;
they flowed over the mountains,
    they went down into the valleys,
    to the place you assigned for them.
(Psalm 104:7,8 ~ NIV)

There shall be showers of blessing,
Precious reviving again;
Over the hills and the valleys,
Sound of abundance of rain.

Showers of blessing,
Showers of blessing we need:
Mercy-drops round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.
(Showers of Blessing ~ Daniel W Whittle ~ American evangelist ~ 1840-1901)

Saying Good Words

November 25, 2015November 25, 2015 ~ Paul Phillips ~ 1 Comment

It was the perfect plan! Perfect.

The Phillips Brats were in fine form. Mr. Olson, the patient and gentle teacher of their primary Sunday School class, wouldn’t know what to do. They were sure of it.

The eight and nine year-old boys normally were on their best behavior on Sunday mornings, since their father was acting as the Sunday School Superintendent that year. They never knew when his strong fingers would slide through the portable cloth panel behind their chairs and pinch an arm to quiet down his rowdy offspring. The man knew how to pinch!

Today, though—today—his work with the Post Office guaranteed there would be no pinched arms. The busy holiday season required more hours of all the employees, and their dad, a clerk at the main office in town, was no exception. He wouldn’t impede them in their mischievousness today.

They drafted one of the more courageous girls in the class to help with their plan. It was a simple plan, but one guaranteed to disrupt progress.

Mr. Olson began to teach and they went into action. Well, it wasn’t really into action. Each of the three children simply had an assigned word to whisper. Just one.

The older brother didn’t hesitate.

Amen!

Their teacher stopped in mid-sentence, but only for a second. His eye-brows went up quizzically, and then he was off again.

It was time for brother number two to interject.

Hallelujah!

The result was the same. No verbal response was forthcoming, nor was any expected. The lesson simply went on.

Praise the Lord!

The brave little girl carried off her part admirably. Mr. Olson didn’t even hesitate this time. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he would fulfill his responsibilities, regardless.

The entire half hour went in much the same manner. The alternating voices, sometimes louder—sometimes softer—interjected at appropriate (or not) intervals, and the lesson was completed at last.

Amen! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

They are good words, are they not?

The plan was genius. No Sunday School teacher in his right mind would deny the children the privilege of using those words in response to the lesson. The boys knew that. The problem is—the good words were not in response to anything.

They meant nothing to the children. Nothing.

An entire lesson was wasted. All while only good words were spoken.

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain. (Exodus 20:7)

It is one of the Ten Commandments about which we are most vociferous. In my house, growing up, we had a list of what my father called minced oaths—words mimicking the sound of God’s name—which were prohibited. I cannot bring myself to say them aloud to this day. You will, no doubt, be able to bring them to mind without me listing them here.

Frequently, I see written comments or hear them in conversation from well-meaning folks, who are fed up with the constant barrage. I don’t disagree. It is disheartening.

We understand what it means to take the name of God in vain.

Or, do we?

Well, at least the ancient men of God understood it, right? They wouldn’t even utter His real name, choosing instead a euphemism. The rationale was that they couldn’t inadvertently be guilty of trespass that way.

But, did they understand any better than we do?

What if taking the Lord’s name in vain has nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with the language that erupts when we smash our thumb with a hammer, or are spattered with hot grease?

What if the foul words that come unbidden when we are angry and out of control are not even remotely connected to the principle God intended for us to take away from His instruction to mankind?

I wonder. Is it possible that we will someday have to justify our passive invocation of God’s blessing upon our gatherings in which we do nothing but further our own well-being?

Will He reprimand us for the actions we have demanded of others in His name? Our list of spiritual do’s and don’ts has grown sophisticated and somewhat unmanageable over the centuries.

Somehow, I hear the voice of the Teacher castigating the teachers of the Law for their lists and demands, as He clearly tells them that the burden the people carry is not God’s, but theirs—and you yourselves will not lift one finger to help them carry it. (Luke 11:46)

What if our gatherings for giving thanks are not that at all, but simply a time for us to gaze fondly at our wealth and physical blessings, all the while closing our hearts—and hands—to those who have nothing?

The day we set aside as a country to celebrate our giving of thanks is upon us.

Amen! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

The children, perhaps, may be pardoned for their youthful misuse of the words.

What if, this time, we really meant the words? I trust it will be so.

On this day, and throughout the year, may our gatherings be blessed with thankful hearts, out of which flow generosity of spirit and a love for others.

Give thanks!

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
(Colossians 3:15-17 ~ NIV)

To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven.
(Johannes A Gaertner ~ German born poet/theologian ~ 1912-1996)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

gratitude

The Day Before Thanksgiving

Nourishment

But the Thorns!

He Rides Upon the Storm

Saying Good Words