OK, you know where I'm coming from. For as much as I like Thanksgiving, it's really not about the food, it's about family. I don't know about you, but my family is important to me. Why? Because ever since I really left home (that is, where I was born and grew up), my (acquired) family has been all I've had.
Most of you have never left home. Sure, lots of you have traveled and seen exciting things in exciting places; you've had stimulating experiences in exotic environments, but, at heart, you're still American or German or French or British, and you've probably gone back to somewhere near where you were born or at least in the same country. Me, I'm an expat ... and have probably always have been, even when I was in exile in my home country (14 years in California but was born near Pittsburgh, and "being on another planet", doesn't quite capture the true essence of it all). For me, home isn't where you hang your hat, it's where your heart is, and my heart is always with my family ... and by that, I mean "immediate".
A corollary to this is that being with family means giving thanks. In fact, giving thanks has become one of the most important activities in my life. I'll be the first to admit: I've got it good, maybe even better than a whole lot of others. And I'm thankful for that. I've got a decent job that's halfway interesting; I've been able to see and experience things that others have only dreamed of; I know some people who are - for lack of a better word - unique, one-of-a-kind and irreplaceable; I have, in short, been blessed.
But, we have to ask ourselves what that means? Some of my best friends are atheists, and the word "blessed" doesn't fit into their reality very well. For them, and I agree, I've been "fortunate" or just downright "lucky". We all know, be we atheists or some kind of believers, that my life has been enriched in unfathomable ways. I'm one of those dorks, I suppose, who, given the chance, wouldn't trade a moment of my existence for anything else. I've got more than I bargained for, have received lots more than I deserve, have luscious regrets and the peace of mind of knowing that had I all to do over again, I wouldn't change a single thing. Why? Because I'm religious and I know it's all "God's work"? Because I'm an idiot and don't understand the world? Because I'm unambitious, for there could have certainly been more (whatever that is)? No, because it all is just as it is because that's the way it is and no way else.
Right after Thanksgiving, you see, there is a change of season. For Christians (even if most of them may not know it), the New Church Year begins. That would be the First Sunday in Advent, or for the more mundane, the fourth Sunday before Christmas. That doesn't mean much to most of us anymore. We've forgotten (or have chosen to ignore) when what happens and why. For me, however, these are markers that remind me of what might do me some good if I don't forget.
Does this make me religious? No. Does it make me irreligious? No. Does it make me anything at all? I don't think so.
Being conscious of what's happening is -- at least in my little world -- a good thing. I like to note the passing of time and the recurrence of events as a way of reminding myself where we are. It used to be the norm, but it is now the exception ... which is one of the reasons why I have, at times, simply been referred to as "Edwierdo".
No comments:
Post a Comment