Here’s an old song, but a song I have always loved. I wrote it for a Thanksgiving celebration many years ago, but somehow the simple story is speaking to me right now.
She said, “I had a pretty rough start.
My mom and my dad poked holes in my heart.
They raised me on jello and tv and curses and spanks.
But tonight at our humble supper
with bread and with soup and with laughter
with your hands in mine, it’s finally time to give thanks.
he said, “My dad was trained in munitions.
He raised me in spartan conditions.
and he was outraged when I refused to rise in the ranks.
but tonight at our humble table
I’ll feel all the love that I’m able
I’m finally free for the best part of me to give thanks.
We are broken, and never quite mended.
but somehow, we are befriended.
and we may not have much in our pockets or stockpiled in banks.
but tonight at our humble dinner.
I love you just like a beginner.
I look at you, and all I can do is give thanks.
© Stuart Stotts nov 23, 2000