Empty Chairs

It's 2:07 on Thanksgiving morning and I'm wide awake, counting blessings instead of sheep. At the same time I can't help thinking about empty chairs

This afternoon our daughter will file into a crowded cafeteria at the Missionary Training Center to partake of the annual feast.

Obligated to work on Black Friday, our oldest son will roast a turkey and maybe even bake homemade pies in his apartment to share with other students who couldn't travel to their homes for the holiday.

I ache with the memory of our college-age kids staggering through the front door with overflowing laundry baskets, their jackets smelling of November cold as they greeted us with awkward hugs and huge smiles. This year our hall isn't piled with luggage, no one has complained about hot water turning cold mid-shower, and no one's been demoted to sleeping on the living room floor.

How did life shift so fast, propelling our children into the world?

I am thankful that they'll miss us as much as we'll miss them when we gather with my parents, some of my ten siblings and their families for a laughter-filled dinner served on styrofoam plates. Two chairs will be empty because our son has a job and both of our adult children are choosing to serve others in a culture that's often colored by self-indulgence. I'm grateful that they freely embrace their obligations to a God who can never be repaid for blessings He pours upon us.

The winter of 1620 left many empty seats in the pilgrims' first hovels. They still thanked God for deliverance from "perils and miseries".

There will be plenty of reasons for empty chairs today as Americans likewise reserve a time to celebrate thanksgiving.


Copyright Nov. 24, 2011 by Nani Lii S. Furse