Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past, Present and Future

Over the river and through the wood? Some of my childhood Thanksgivings were certainly over the river if they weren't actually through the wood. The road to T'giving dinner went west from Ames, Iowa to Walthill, Nebraska. The river crossing was between Onawa, Iowa and Decatur, Nebraska.

Thanksgiving excitement would start with piling into the family station wagon. The goal was Grandma and Grandpa Kilzer's farm. The four hour drive went through rural towns with names like Boone, Carroll and Dennison. My favorite town was Soldier. Each town had its name on the watertower. Most towns also had a grain elevator. By the time we reached Onawa, we were primed for bridge spotting. All of us kids wanted to be the first to see the shiny, erector-set-like bridge that would take us from Iowa to Nebraska. Seems like we'd drive through Macy in the dark and finally arrive at The Farm kind of late. I know we had a good time. I know we ate lots of mashed potatoes.

Thanksgiving for my children has meant driving from Reston to Springfield. The route has changed from Beltway to Fairfax County Parkway. The destination has been my cousin's house. The towns are named Herndon, Fairfax and Burke. They're marked by exit signs instead of watertowers. Nobody knows what a grain elevator is! We began the tradition with the K....y family having teen-agers and the F....s family having little kids who shared a piano bench at the dinner table. Then the K....y kids went away to college, married, had their own kids and needed to rotate attendance at the holiday meal with their in-laws. And now, the F....s kids are juggling college and in-laws.

Soon we'll add a grandchild to the mix. Suppose the younger generation will fight over the piano bench seats?

Fall Is Moving On...

The first weekend in November the people of St. Anne's head to the Virginia mountains. Some years I watch my fellow church friends go, sometimes I travel with them. For the past three years I've been lucky enough to spend a November weekend in the Blue Ridge.

Unlike the craggy mountains in the western U.S., mountains in the eastern U.S. have deceivingly gentle profiles. The long, smooth lines of their ridges flow along the skyline. This time of year the steep mountainsides display their autumn finery. The hardwood forests on the way to Shrine Mont are dressed in the deep oranges and russet reds of late fall. Gone are the bright orange, yellow and peachy colors of earlier fall. I was surprised at the glory of leaves turned almost brown. A heavy frost on Saturday morning warned of winter days to come. Fall is moving on.

The church is moving on, too. Saturday morning's frost gave way to the sights and sounds of a new season in the Episcopal church. Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori was installed to her new position in the National Cathedral. Miles from Washington, DC, the people of St. Anne's, linked to the celebration by the world wide web, marveled at the colors, gloried in the sounds, imagined the scents of the installation ceremony. During the eucharistic prayer I stood between our new presiding bishop's projected image and our St. Anne's associate rector Jackie. The two women spoke the same words, blessed wine and broke bread, prepared to share the same body and blood of our Christ. Jackie asked me to serve the chalice. The installation service continued with a Spanish language communion hymn. I was torn between singing the hymn and saying, "the blood of Christ, shed for you." We are so blessed. Our god is an awesome god.

May God keep us mindful of our family bond. May we, God's children, remember each other as the family God wants us to be. May we, God's family, gather often at the Table, respecting and loving our sisters and brothers.