If you never feel lonelier than at Thanksgiving

Anyone who’s ever been there knows the serendipitous sorrow of a time like Thanksgiving for millions of people whether they choose to acknowledge it or not.

Those who hate the concept of Thanksgiving, because it’s either not a personally felt phenomenon at all, or there remains so much still to be reconciled, have nowhere to run, when society lashes all to the mast of gratitude and joy.

There’s the day itself, of course, but then there’s also the season beforehand and all the hype, and then there is the steady trickle of stories of “what I did this Thanksgiving.”

It’s all too much for all too many people. And though we can all celebrate the IDEA of giving thanks, because we most of us already know that that’s the way to truly live life, for far too many there is loneliness upon isolation upon frustration upon lament upon even the triggering of horrendous trauma.

Let’s just say it here. It happens, it’s normal (even if it feels abhorrently abnormal to feel this way on a “day of celebration”), and it’s valid. There’s nothing more valid I would say than a situation where we CANNOT celebrate what makes us nauseated.

There are those for which Thanksgiving and all it stands for is hard. And it may always be hard. For the concept of harvest and of provision, still so many have not reaped what they have sown. Perhaps it’s a case of no matter what we sow we will never reap what we have lost. That’s just sad! Let’s just be honest.

If we’ve not reaped what we’ve sown, it is faith and faith alone that keeps us sowing in the hope of an eventual reaping. And that reaping may simply be a true and real acceptance of a new normal.

So, may we hear the gentle voice of the Saviour: “Well done, good and faithful servant, for continuing to sow especially when you’re weary… PLEASE do not grow weary in sowing in faith, for at the proper time you WILL reap a harvest of what you need if you do not give up.”

And even where you have sown and you’ve grown tired of sowing, seek rest and replenishment, because you know how long the journey is, and there is but one option left when we’re tired. God allows us to “give up” for a day. Perhaps Thanksgiving is that day.

As the Autumn leaves fall, it’s a reminder that growth is always a changing context.

Even though God must feel so silent when we’re at the depths of the abyss, God does know intimately what we’re dealing with, and God does care. How do I know? God is closer to those who need him most. It’s not until we look back that we recognise this. Afterwards we will know.

Here is to your “afterwards.”

Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver on Unsplash