Thanksgiving

I am clumsy. Always have been. No, that is not negative self talk. How else does one explain a broken ankle, broken wrist, broken toes and a fractured kneecap, along with multiple sprains, in childhood? Today is Thanksgiving. There is just Mike, my brother, and I, but there was still a feast to prepare. If I stand too long, the pain in my arthritic knees radiates up to my back and hips so I have a rolling stool in the kitchen to ease the strain of meal preparation. As I was bending to retrieve the roasting pan from the lower cupboard, the stool slipped out from under me. I landed, hard, on my backside. Flat on my back I waited for the air to return to my lungs. It would be hours before Mike showed up for dinner. The phones were in other rooms and I was alone. I remember, long ago, of laughing at the cheesy, “Help! I’ve fallen and can’t get up” commercials. It’s not so funny when one is on the floor.

I had only two options: lie on the floor until Mike came or get up. Flat on my back I contemplated a sit-up. Heck. I couldn’t even do those in high school gym class. So after four or five minutes, I rolled over and got up on my hands and knees. My arthritic knees screamed in pain. I collapsed flat once more. All I had breath for was a whisper, “Help me. Help me, Jesus.” I tried again. Same result. I could reach my cane and with it I was able to pull my stool towards me. With my elbows on the stool, I could roll to the sink, and with that solid support, make it to my feet. Thank you, Jesus.

Good. I could make our dinner with no more surprises. The turkey roasted, the sides baked, The gravy simmered. I was just about to set the table when I heard the back door open. “Miks, dinner will be ready in half an hour,” I called.

Surprise. It wasn’t Mike who answered, but our friend Don. He had a successful deer hunt and brought me a small venison roast. (Christmas dinner!) He also checked out the leak that had disabled my car, declared that it was oil, and surmised the nut on the oil pan had worked loose. That would be a much more affordable repair than the new radiator I was fearing. But I was a hot mess. My house was, and is, a hot mess. Don is the kind of friend who takes no notice. A person needs friends like that.

So Thanksgiving feast prepared and shared with “Little Brother.” A turkey sandwich and pumpkin pie for supper. Dishes in the sink can wait until tomorrow. All’s well. Except. The muscles and joints that impacted the floor have had time to stiffen up and I fear tomorrow they will only be worse.

So. What’s the message for today? To give thanks, yes. That’s the obvious, the cliché reason. Or is the message that even on a holiday, a time of celebration, a time to be joyful, there is still struggle? Having fallen, to lie helpless and give up? Or to fight through the weakness and pain to get back up, to carry on, to do what needs to be done? This day seems a microcosm of life: some struggle, some joy, A little help from one’s friends – and a whole lot of grace from Jesus.