Happy Thanksgiving?

“Happy Thanksgiving!” came the greeting. “Ditto”, I replied. Aaron laughed. “I don’t do holidays,” I stated flatly. “What?” . . . Aaron Mascaro, one of our chaplains looked like he couldn’t make up his mind if I was serious or not, as I often have some ready comebacks to my staff. I explained to him that I don’t handle holidays well; perhaps due to the dysfunction of my childhood that feeling of loss is compounded at the holidays.

That’s the way it is for many people like me, and especially for those we were serving the past two days at the Long Beach Rescue Mission. Hundreds of people – homeless, needy, neighborhood families, those who are hurting and hungry for whatever reason – come through our doors for a free meal and a feeling of family for a few moments over a Thanksgiving meal. Perhaps some of the numerous volunteers are here for the same reason – a lack of family – or if they’re lucky, to share their lives with others, and to show their children what serving and true thanksgiving is really all about.

Maybe that’s why I work at the Mission . . . because I know what it’s like to have loss, and I desire to share with others that which I didn’t have. My life has not reached the depths of loss of many of those we serve who come off the streets; but that’s only because I made different choices along the way and have had a wife and children who give me stability, and a relationship of faith through Jesus Christ. Otherwise, I would be on the other side of the doorway coming in for help rather than providing it.

Later this morning, as we watched people enjoying their Thanksgiving breakfast, Aaron shared an article he had read and used in his message to our guests last night at the Thanksgiving eve dinner. It was about the myth of Thanksgiving as a family holiday . . . I didn’t know where he was going with that, so I held my voice and left him finish. He said it was a community event, not a private family event as we know it today. The pilgrims – as a community – were giving thanks for their native friends who had showed them the proper crops to plant and desired to share with them the bounty God had provided through the friendship of that community.

As Aaron shared this, I looked around the dining room and let it soak into my heart . . . community is what we celebrate; it is what draws us to share our bounty with others and reach out to the least, the last, and the lost of our neighborhood and city streets. It is in this community that our personal loss and dysfunction is melted away as we join with others in serving, being served, and becoming part of a much larger family. Sure we have issues to deal with – as did the pilgrims – but as they had, we too have a larger family of community. So whether in our serving or receiving, we are blessed through those who desire to celebrate what God has provided through our community and into our lives.

I pondered this on my way home to my family . . . maybe I can do holidays after all.