There is no pie in thanks.
BY JON SWANSON
When I was growing up, we went to church on Thanksgiving Eve.

It was a small church. Everyone knew everyone else’s story. So when people stood up and talked about what they were thankful for, we knew that they meant it. We knew what had happened.

Afterwards, we had pie.

It was great. I looked forward to the frozen chocolate cream kind of pies, or crumbly-topped apple pie. I actually looked forward to almost anything but pumpkin. I knew I would have pumpkin the next day. And with enough whipped cream, I would enjoy it. For my one piece of the year.

Later in life, when it came time for me to be involved in leading Thanksgiving Eve services, I kept hinting at the wonderful benefit of pie afterward. I nudged every year. Until I talked to my mom about it.

I discovered that having to prepare an extra pie, having to hang around people for an extra couple hours after the service, having to help set up and clean up had a price. I discovered that mom spent many Thanksgiving mornings carving turkey through a migraine.

It helped me see the human cost of sentimentality.

Tomorrow, some people won’t make it for the party at just the right time. Part of the decorations won’t go up. Aunt Mable’s famous potatoes that you made in her honor may have a lump or two.

Who cares.

Paul wrote,

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:12-13)

Apparently, capacity for giving thanks doesn’t come from pie.

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