Homily      "It's All in the Mix"         Part I

Welcome to our Thanksgiving service. As we approach Thanksgiving each of us may have things in our lives that prompt us to ask, "What do I have to be thankful for?"   Some of you kids may feel -" I have to go to school every day and I hate school - and you grownups - dinner for eighteen - Ugh - that's a lot of work is all that is"  You may not be feeling particularly thankful….

Today I am dividing my homily into two parts each of which has a story to prompt us to think about Thanksgiving, not only for its turkey and Pilgrims, but the state of mind each of us brings to it. 

The first is from my own life. The year I graduated from high school I was accepted to study German language and culture for the summer in with a group called the Foreign Language League.  This was an adventure for me  not only because I had never been to Europe, but also because I was the only student from all of New England. 

My two closest friends during this eight week quest turned out to be Cathy,  from Laramie, Wyoming, and Judy, who was black and from Baltimore. Although we came from three very different worlds, our chemistry was great -  with the Alps outside our chalet window, we'd often talk late into the night about our very different lives back home and our  hopes and dreams for the future.  As I hugged Judy goodbye at the end of the summer she said, "I envy you the life you are going home to. If I could choose to be someone other than myself, I would be you." 

I was stunned. What she didn't know was that I had mixed feelings about going home.  I missed my family after two months, sure.  But being a child of a single alcoholic parent had ugly moments, embarrassing moments, times of feeling not nurtured or adequately cared for.  Every day with an alcoholic parent is lived with the stress of "How bad will it be today." Of the children in the house I had picked up the role of "the responsible one" and "the worrier," and it had been so good not to have that burden all summer.  Only then did it dawn on me that I hadn't mentioned one negative thing about my life to either Judy or Cathy.  I smiled at Judy, thinking, "If you only knew."   I realized that part of the wonderfulness of my time in Europe had been that I had shed the problem part of my life.  To have talked about it would have been to bring it with me. I thought it ironic that she would think my life so wonderful when it was really so lousy.  For some reason it annoyed me that she thought I had a good life.

 I hadn't been untruthful. I had shared a lot  - but just the good things.  A suburban neighborhood full of kids.  A cast of good friends with whom I had genuine relationships. A pond and some woods where we shared many adventures.  I got along with my two brothers.  My mother believed there was no such thing as a bad kid and not only liked and approved of my friends, but also those of my brothers, some of whom were more challenging to believe in. And although her drinking was quite visible to them, they cared for her and she was someone kids chose to confide in. She was a special lady. Yet I only grudgingly admitted that my life was functioning quite well in many ways.

I had left for Europe glad to be away and apparently very angry, although my anger wasn't visible to myself or to anyone else.  And, I can say this now, looking back  --  it took me years to come to this position,  I was full of self-pity. The Reverend  Marilyn Sewell of Portland, Oregon says this about self-pity:

 "Self-pity separates you from other people because you believe that you, somehow have been singled out for pain.  You say, "What did I do to deserve this?" and you find no answer.  You conclude that life is unfair, and most of all it is unfair to you. At dusk you walk down the street in your neighborhood, and you look at the lights in the windows.  You envy the inhabitants.  You imagine that all is well within - that these homes are full of loving spouses and happy, resourceful children.  You are the only one who is different.  You, who suffer so much, for no reason at all…Self-pity…is a bog of despair that will only pull you in deeper and deeper."[1]

I was a high school graduate with a Walt Disney view of what went on in other's lives.  At that time I was incapable of Thanksgiving.  I was blind and deaf to the bounty in my life.  I needed learn and accept, as we all do, that life is a rich and textured mix of miracle, blessing and tragedy.     A more sophisticated view of how complex and layered life virtually always is, would have to come later as I matured emotionally and spiritually

 

Homily           "It's All in the Mix"    Part II

 

I want to tell you the story I heard of a beautiful little girl about 6 years old who was waiting  with her mother under an awning outside WalMart for a heavy rain to slow down so they could dash to their cars - this was the kind of rain that gushes over the tops of rain gutters. The drains in the parking lot were filled to capacity and some were blocked so that huge puddles were making lakes around parked cars. There was a small crowd under the awning, some waiting patiently, amazed, excited by Mother nature's spectacle. Others clearly annoyed because nature had messed up their hurried day.  The Mother looked like a pretty normal mom. 

"Mom, let's run through the rain," the little girl said to her mother.
"What?" Mom asked.
"Let's run through the rain!" she repeated.
"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.
This young child waited a bit, then said,
"C'mon Mom."
"We'll get soaked."
"No, we won't. That's not what you said before." She pulled at her Mom's arm.
"When did I ever say we could run through the rain and not get wet?"
"This morning.  When you were talking to Daddy in the hospital.  You said, "If our Higher Power can get us through this, it will get us through anything!"
The entire crowd hushed in a way that told you that they had heard.
The mother paused…. She could laugh it off  or ignore it. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured and strengthened - a time to affirm the good side-by-side with the bad.
"Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If we get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said. Then off they ran. For a second everyone watched, smiling as they darted past the cars and through the puddles, holding their shopping bags over their heads and getting soaked.  Then, just a beat behind, others followed, screaming and laughing like children all the way to their cars.  

As this incident at WalMart shows us, the good and the bad are all in the mix together. Our relationship to the world - whether we are grateful for our blessings or whether we even are even capable of seeing them has little to do with our actual circumstances and almost everything to do with our state of mind, our spiritual stance.  There is in each one of us a deep well of thanksgiving waiting to be tapped even in the worst of times. The premise of Thanksgiving is this:  there is always bounty and beauty somewhere. Look for it.  Do not trust your eyes and ears and heart to be automatically sensitive to all that is good.  

We have a choice.  We can live caught up in self-pity and controlled by the things that don't go right.  Or we can choose to see the hand that is extended to us as we run in the rain, we can be lifted by hymns that are sung in good faith, and inspired by the meteors that fly through a November sky.  May we be open to the fullness of our lives this holiday season.  Happy Thanksgiving.