No one has ever become poor by giving. ~ Anne Frank
Thanksgiving Day 2013 did not unfold exactly as we expected, but there certainly was plenty to be thankful for. Late Wednesday afternoon, we found out that the family member we had expected to be hosting our traditional feast had been in the hospital with kidney stones. Fortunately, a stop at the store on the way home from work by my son-in-love, Doug, produced a turkey and the makings for dressing.
Thursday morning started early, as we participated in Borodash (a fundraiser walk/run). It was a brisk 19 degrees when our warm hearts gathered at the start line with a dozen or more of our family members, including all of our grandones! Imagine walkers and runners—some clad as pilgrims, others as Indian maidens, and a wide variety of turkey hats!
Besides the sheer joy of being alive and spending time together, a highlight of the event was waiting to welcome the last walker across the finish line, a veteran who had one leg. It is hard to feel anything but blessed when you see how much some people are able to do with their lives, in spite of challenges along the way.
So after the Borodash and breakfast at Cracker Barrel, we headed to the house to begin preparing our Thanksgiving meal. We began slicing apples and making preparations to get the pie into the oven. We had planned to take the famous Dutch apple pie—using a recipe cobbled together by my daughter, Stacey, following the death of her Grandma Smith. This year (hoping to move closer to the desired results of my mom’s pie), I brought a different recipe with me.
We realized we did not have any cornstarch. The Publix around the corner was closed so their employees (including our grandson, Adam) could enjoy Thanksgiving with their families. Walmart is quite a bit farther away, and likely would have been filled with shoppers getting a head-start on the Black Friday specials. The apple slices were already turning brown (and we were waiting for the pie to come out of the oven for the turkey to go in).
Only needing ¼ cup of cornstarch, I sent my daughter (Stacey), and husband (John), and granddogger (Baxter), out to knock on neighbor’s doors. The first few houses, no one answered the door. The next house is occupied by a Hispanic family. The parents’ English would best be described as little-to-none. The young daughter tried unsuccessfully to translate. With the dad on his hands and knees mopping the kitchen floor in preparation for their own guests, the family graciously invited Stacey in, opened all their cupboards for her to look for what she needed. Even so, she returned without any cornstarch.
We were in the process of trying to make substitutions, when we heard a knock on the door. The young girl and her younger brother were standing there, having been sent over with a container of what turned out to be flour. Stacey told them she had flour, but thanked them for trying.
A few minutes later, another knock on the door, and they had returned with this box!
As Stacey and I took out the needed amount, thanked them, and turned back to the preparations of the pie, I was choking back tears thinking of loving and generous hearts that would motivate you to go to that extent to help someone. I was reminded of the stories of Jesus about going the extra mile.
I may never know the details of the conversations between this young girl and her family, but I will always remember the unexpected gifts of this Thanksgiving Day.
