Our family has a tradition of the Thanksgiving Corn Ceremony. After dinner, each family member receives five kernels of dried corn. We go around the room, saying what we are thankful for. Five kernels of corn came from a story of the Pilgrims living on just five kernels apiece in the long winter after that first Thanksgiving. Was this a true story? Who knows, but limiting the number of kernels was sensible as we were always a large group around the Thanksgiving table.
A Corn Ceremony brass bowl swallowed each kernel with a satisfying PING in the early days. Being in a large family, it was a sacred moment when every eye turned your way, waiting to hear what you say. Five chances to be in the limelight. We needed to make the best of it. Thus, the LIST was born.
As children, the LIST was serious business. With only five PINGs, weighty consideration was required. Did you have to mention God? That was one whole corn, wasted… almost. Everyone was grateful for God; that was a given. What about Mom and Dad? Undoubtedly, another sibling would mention them. Did they need corn from each kid?
THE LIST was often laboriously written in childish handwriting and referred to under the table as the bowl made its way back around. It was essential to be prepared and confident in your thanks. There were many of us, and the room began to shift impatiently if you hemmed and hawed too long.
The Corn Ceremony also had unspoken rules. As we got older and fell in love, one corn was automatically allocated to the spouse—woe to the partner who used their last PLINK on Duck Hunting or My New Pair of Shoes. Critique was also not allowed. (except for the spouse thing, and that was done in private) A favorite pet was given the same level of respect as World Peace.
Our family is not big on traditions, but the Corn Ceremony has stuck and is now circling three generations of Thanksgiving tables. The receptacles are different, and the original corn kernels are long gone, but the heart is the same. There are always a few reluctant participants, probably because they cried the year before and are still embarrassed about pats on the back, but we all agree, public thanksgiving is good for the soul.
As the turkey holiday approaches, I am in the middle of Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write. It has exercises at the end of each chapter, and Chapter 9 encouraged me to list 100 things I love to “reconnect to your emotional throughline.” I was unsure what that meant, but I poured a fresh cup of coffee and got to work. Trying not to overthink, I jotted down the first thing that popped into my mind. The one hundred “loves” came in record time. It was the easiest writing challenge I had ever been tasked with.
Since I am not held to just five PLINKs in print, here is a smattering of the lovely things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving season.
1. French press coffee
4. tattoos
9. hope
12. camel rides
13. Learning “hello” in seven languages
21. the ability to heal
22. phone calls from my sons
26. my mother’s wisdom
30. having my mind changed
35. the ability to say NO
42. canceled social engagements
48. the sound of pen on paper
52. anything to do with Crows
58. digging deep is a wide world
64. Lou Bear’s dimples
67. church bells and calls to prayer
72. more than one of something you love
76. doing something brave
80. lists
83. zoo photo booths
88. creative energy
93. waking up and it’s your birthday
97. being loved
100. TRUTH
Thanksgiving is just around the corner. It may be a day filled with relatives, football, tables laden with comfort food, a leisurely walk, or an afternoon nap. It could be a day of work, meeting the needs of others, travel, or the first holiday without a loved one. Either way, you will be well served to spend a few quiet moments contemplating what you are thankful for, all the “I Love ______” you have been gifted with.
I am very grateful to YOU, loyal little reader. You are a great encouragement to me.
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