Give Thanks

 

I could see the dust plume from the Avon lady’s car as she made her way up our washboard gravel road. I was the first stop on her route of hopeful cosmetic sales. I watched as she wheeled her big midnight blue Cadillac into our driveway. She always stopped even though she knew I had no money to spend. 

 

She was a tall woman, but her bleached blond beehive hairdo made her even more imposing. I opened our trailer door, “Hi Sweetie”, she whispered—she didn’t want to wake the baby. She bustled in with a large make-up case and wore Avon’s reddest lipstick with the most encouraging smile. I smiled back, but I was living through one of the hardest times in my young life.

 

Of course, the Avon lady knew this. She knew everyone’s business along these country roads. Opening her case on my kitchen table, she pulled out the latest catalog filled with trinkets I couldn’t afford and special gifts I’d never purchase for me or anyone else. “Here, take these little samples—you’ll love that creamy hand lotion.” Her sweetness was authentic. I just wished I could reciprocate her kindness with even a small purchase.

 


It was almost Thanksgiving, and we had no extra money. What did I have to be thankful for? No money for make-up or trinkets. As if reading my thoughts, the Avon lady asked about our baby girl sleeping in the tiny room down the hall. She’d been born two months too soon, but now was thriving. Give thanks.


I had a loving, faithful husband, out braving the weather with his tractor to earn money. Give thanks.

 

Just then, the washing machine went into its spin cycle—a brief but loud clamor from a second-hand, ramshackle machine, but it got the job done. Give thanks.

 

With no clothes dryer, I put the wet heap into a plastic bin. The Avon lady followed me outside into the chilly, late autumn air. She helped me pin clothes to the line. Growing up, I’d always had a dryer. Living in the wide-open country, I noticed that no one else had to hang up clothes in the brittle cold. But then, if I had a dryer, I never would have known the fresh smell of line-dried laundry. Give thanks.

 


She waved as she got into her fancy car—parked next to our old one—but ours had been given to us and it was comfy and reliable. Give thanks.

 

I watched the breeze flutter the neat line-up of my family’s clothes. Giving thanks isn’t always easy, but it’s always worth it, because it makes things not quite as hard.  I waved back and smiled a thankful smile. 



This has been nearly forty Thanksgivings ago. I’ve realized that being thankful is a matter of the heart. I also have learned that it’s a blessing to give joy to those who need it.

 

In everything give thanks. For this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.   1 Thes 5:18

 

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