The Art of Thanksgiving
Last Saturday night I took my family to an organ recital at the Salt Lake Tabernacle because I wanted to make them miserable. Actually, that's not the reason but if you had seen my kids faces you may have thought that.
What are we doing here? We don't belong here, their bemused expressions said as I led them into a room full of mild-mannered grown ups sitting quietly on hard benches.
As we took our seats I suddenly remembered that my kids are unable to sit still and a whisper is still just a intangible theory to them. Clearly disaster was soon to follow. I envisioned our family being escorted from the building to great applause from the annoyed audience, the reasons running the gamut from giggling and farting to setting the organ on fire.
It's important not to rule anything out with kids.
I had little to fear though for when the concert began the music took over. I leaned over to my sons and told them to close their eyes and see what sort of story the music inspired in their imagination. Soon my boys were smiling, eyes shut tight as they saw wolves and planets and explosions dance in their minds. I had had the nerve of wanting to my kids to experience the incomparable delight of live music and I am so glad I did. Walking hand in hand with my kids after the concert, discussing our music-inspired daydreams made for a very special moment.
That wasn't all that I took from that night.
I was shocked as I watched the organists perform. I had no idea how strenuous an instrument the organ is to play. While the side nobs and multi-level keyboard seemed complicated enough, I had been ignorant to what was also happening underneath. The musicians feet never stopped moving. Their legs were splayed out wide, tapping at the numerous peddles below them as they simultaneously mastered the upper portion of the organ. It was an athletic endeavor, getting the instrument to make the right sounds. It isn't like a pianist who sways, getting lost in the music. The organist toils.
I left that night with a greater appreciation for these artists. I thought about their years of training. I thought of their parents, taking them to practice. Paying for practice. Having to endure countless hours of ill-played chords and scale practices. I thought of their instructors, the composers, sheet music distributers, copyright lawyers, the craftsman who engineered the instrument into being.
Needless to say, my gratitude for all that had gone before me so I could enjoy an evening with my family left me in awe.
I value gratitude. I think it one of the most important characteristics to possess and the primary ingredient for happiness. Gratitude is its own kind of magic; as soon as we choose to use it, it transforms everything we see: broadening our minds and enlarging our hearts. As Alphonse Karr said:
“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.”
Giving thanks is gaining wisdom. Gratitude allows us to get out of our own way to see the divine around us. Gratitude is joy and it enables us to have joy. I like to think of gratitude as an art form.
Thanksgiving is a very important holiday to me. Some of my favorite childhood memories happened during Thanksgiving weekend. My favorite people in the world- my cousins- and I would all come together for a glorious, fun-filled weekend of sleepovers and making home movies. It was a very happy time in my life, every year of my life. I am very thankful for my cousins.
Now as a parent I love when Thanksgiving comes around because it gives me another opportunity to teach and share the joy of appreciation with my kids. The act of sitting together over a meal while speaking our many blessings is not something to take for granted or lightly. This is a hugely important tradition that our culture cannot afford to lose. I roll my eyes when I see store shelves brimming with singing Santa's and plastic toys as soon as Halloween is over. Thanksgiving evening is now cut short so people can prepare themselves for the midnight deals on Black Friday. Don't get me started about Black Friday.
I loathe Black Friday.
A few days ago my kids asked why we celebrate Thanksgiving. Telling them the story, the same one we have heard since grade school, touched me as if I had never heard it before. Desperate pilgrims, put-upon natives, neighbors and enemies, coming together to save, preserve and give thanks with one another is one of the loveliest stories ever, and the fact that it really happened amazes me. I too have taken for granted what a meaningful day Thanksgiving is.
I hope you and yours have the sweetest of Thanksgivings next week. I'm grateful you took the time to read my blog post. Thank you, dear reader.
I close with a monologue from Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town. In the end scene, Emily, now dead, has been given the chance to revisit her town and family to see them one last time. Her discovery of the beauty of life and how it is wasted on mortal eyes breaks my heart and reaffirms to me that I need to be more diligent in looking for the blessings that surround me wherever I go.
"I can't bear it. They're so young and beautiful. Why did they ever have to get old? Mama, I'm here. I'm grown up. I love you all, everything. - I cant look at everything hard enough. (pause, talking to her mother who does not hear her. She speaks with mounting urgency) Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I'm dead. You're a grandmother, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. Wally's dead, too. Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it - don't you remember? But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's look at one another. (pause, looking desperate because she has received no answer. She speaks in a loud voice, forcing herself to not look at her mother) I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. (she breaks down sobbing, she looks around) I didn't realize. All that was going on in life and we never noticed. Take me back - up the hill - to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corners...Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking.. and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths...and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. (she asks abruptly through her tears) Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? - every, every minute? (she sighs) I'm ready to go back. I should have listened to you. That's all human beings are! Just blind people."