A Perpetual Holiday

A banner spanning the hospital entrance read, “Thanksgiving is for giving thanks.” How trite, I thought, how unoriginal. Then, in the hospital parking lot I watched a family loading a child into a van. Imprisoned for life in a wheelchair, the boy’s legs had atrophied to little more than shriveled, stick-like limbs, his arms flailed aimlessly, his head weaved from side to side, saliva dripped from his chin, and his eyes were fixed in a hopeless, upward stare.

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The Real Nature of Thankfulness

I’d finished teaching the day’s classes, but still had a few hours’ of drudgery ahead of me, completing the weekly forms that must be entered in college’s database — a boring, tedious, time-consuming job that I always dreaded. Getting started was the hardest part, and as I sat in an inertial state, unwilling to begin, I read a few of the aphorisms taped to my computer. One was a quote by American poet and educator, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “The everyday cares and duties, which men call drudgery, are the weights and counterpoises of the clock of time, giving its pendulum a true vibration and its hands a regular motion; and when they cease to hang upon its wheels, the pendulum no longer swings, the hands no longer move, the clock stands still.” Reflecting on Longfellow’s words, the hospital banner’s message, and the tearful scene in the parking lot caused me to set aside the paperwork and ponder the real nature of thankfulness. How happy would that little boy be if he could perform the everyday cares and duties that I consider drudgery? How happy would he be if he could control his legs and arms, as I control mine? How happy would he be if he could eat and drink unassisted? How happy would he be if he could join his brothers and sisters as they laughed, shouted, and played outside, instead of suffering all alone inside, watching them from a window?

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Real thanksgiving requires day-by-day mindfulness and gratitude for the countless blessings of living in the world’s freest country

How thrilled would he be if he could sit in a college classroom, take notes, ask questions, and be eager to study and learn — tasks that many students consider drudgery? How blessed and thankful would he be if the weights and counterpoises of the clock of life gave his existence a regular motion? I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and made a confession to myself and to the God who made that little boy and me: I take far too much for granted; I am not nearly thankful enough. If I were, I would view the drudgery of life as necessary — nay, vital — to the true vibration and regular motion that measures life. In a sadder and wiser frame of mind, I regretted my previous thoughts about the hospital banner’s message. I wouldn’t consider it trite if I acknowledge that Thanksgiving is not just a single day to give thanks. Real thanksgiving requires day-by-day mindfulness and gratitude for the countless blessings of living in the world’s freest country. In that sense, Thanksgiving becomes what it should be: a perpetual holiday.

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