This has been quite a year. On a personal and familial level as well as on a global community level, it has been a hard year. And now it is Thanksgiving. I have to say, I often feel more like giving lament than giving thanks this year. This year we have experienced multiple deaths among friends, family, and family of friends in addition to a friend’s miscarriage, a broken engagement, painful separations, stressful transitions, a near-death experience, and a suicide…all within our family and circle of friends. Others have their personal stories to tell as well. I know. It has been a hard year.
On top of our personal stories we all live the story of a global pandemic that has resulted in “lock downs,” economic hardships, and a devastating number of lives lost to illness, loneliness, and neglect.
We have witnessed the struggle of racial disparity and the related loss of life as well as the hatred, pride, and greed that perpetuates that struggle. And, let us not forget a presidential election filled with vitriol, division, and name-calling that has increased fears and anxieties, some legit but many needless, among so many people.
It has been a hard year. And yes, I lament.
I bow my head and weep for the pain my family and I experience as well as the pain I see around me.
I weep for the division and hatred that has robbed us of friendship and, in too many cases, even family.
I weep for those who have lost family members and loved ones to death.
I weep for those who continue to struggle financially through the pandemic.
I weep for those who struggle with increased loneliness, depression, and anxiety as we “socially isolate” and “shelter-at-home.”
I weep for marriage vows broken and engagements promises lost.
I weep. I lament…even though it is Thanksgiving.
But, deep under the pain of lament I harbor a light…a seed of hope. Some call it naïve, but I disagree.
This seed of hope is planted in the soil of things I am grateful for…the resources to help a friend pay a bill, the opportunity to provide respite and a place to grow for a talented “twenty-something” filled with passion for a better tomorrow, the chance to stand in mourning with friends and family (that I am fortunate enough to have) as we share in a loss together.
My hope sprouts as I witness those working for a better tomorrow, those sharing resources with others in need. I look on with gratitude as I witness people breaking out of the boxes of prejudice to give support and care for those who are profiled as “the enemy” (See We Saved A Life Today & We Love Our Neighbors for just two examples).
My hope is nurtured when I witness small acts of kindness in my community—a man picking up trash and putting it in the garbage just to make the parking lot look nicer, cars stopping to allow a pedestrian to cross the street, or waitresses coming back to thank a customer for a generous tip—and large acts of kindness in the world at large, such as Chuck Feeney’s intentionally giving away his great wealth, a community coming together to help an older woman in the community (Gloria’s Gladiators), a 7-year-old spreading love, and many more.
There are many other stories of kindness and love that fill me with hope. I witness these stories in the lives of the people around me. I receive them in my email from the Good News Network. I hear friends and family tell me about these stories of kindness and hope. So yes, in spite of the pain and sorrow this year, in spite of the need to cry out in lament, I will also give thanks…for there are so many things for which I am thankful. It has been a hard year.
Yes. I will lament this Thanksgiving…AND I will give thanks.