My son finds Thanksgiving confounding. Why do we celebrate a event which led to the decimation of indigenous people? It's one thing to celebrate something before you truly acknowledge the actual incident. I grew up with the whitewashed version of history - very little Hispanic, African, Indigenous influence. I got the whole happy Indians helping out the white folk version...with very little background on what was the standard operating procedures for Euro-Adventurers. For a very prestigious school, I got a very skewed version of history. Thinking about it though, it is in keeping with how few minorities were allowed in...that weren't part of the staff.  

But now that we know what Thanksgiving really symbolizes, shouldn't we modify? I know we try to paint it as a great opportunity to count our blessings and such. But shouldn't we do that on a more regular basis anyway? I mean, shouldn't we be thankful for the supportive people in our lives, the love we get from our families and friends, the blessings of health and abilities? Should we be thankful for all the freedoms we have on at least a monthly basis? I mean, shouldn't we just sit and reflect occasionally about the many fabulous things we get to experience, the wondrous miracles that present themselves into our life unprovoked? 

I remember when my boys were really little, like toddler little. They were thirteen months apart and I was wiped most of the time. I remember how I would be so frazzled and exhausted. It was just an endless stream of diapers, feeding, wiping, monitoring, entertaining, teaching, being on alert. Regardless of how bad the day was, how stressed I was, there would be one thing, one single moment when I would get a look that only someone who adores you can give, one little hand reaching for mine, one tiny little body climbing up into my lap to get as close to me as possible because he was he and I was his. In those spectacular moments, my entire day would change. Everything was worth it. Everything faded to black and the light would shine from my heart to his. I can still bring those moments up from my memory banks. I can still feel the overwhelming, cup runneth over emotions. There were so many of those moments that I can close my eyes and like a playlist on my Ipod, scroll through all the options and choose the perfect incident.  

I am so grateful every day for the opportunity to be a part of these two precious lives. For all their weirdness and teen boy angst, they are the perfect angels that would reach up to be carried, look to me for guidance and allow me to hold their hands on their life journey. What an incredible honor. 

So I don't need a day of thanks. I love the idea of getting together with my people and celebrating our relationship. That appeals to me. But I don't need to have a day to give thanks. Much like I don't need a mandated day of love. I get that some people need a day - a father's day, a mother's day, a valentine's day to remind them that the people so instrumental in making the world a brighter world with unconditional love should be valued....at least once a year. I think it should be part of the lessons we teach our kids. Valuing those that impact us. Appreciating those that brighten our day, are a shoulder to lean on. Randomly. Not orchestrated by society or commercial entities. But inspired by genuine love. 

That is the Thanksgiving lesson that I hope to give to my boys. That they demonstrate their love for others, the appreciation for those that give to them unselfishly, joy for the friendships they have found, for the those that love them regardless of their errors, mistakes, shortcomings.