Benjamin showed up last week to compile boxes of groceries for a food bank. He was the first to arrive, and was drafted to unpack the trailer. The man coordinating the effort was impressed. It reminded me of a summer twenty years ago when he decided to help load firewood onto a truck. He was still non verbal, and quite short, so I doubt that the lumberjack asked for his help. He was simply observant, and chose to wrestle logs half his size above his head. I walked by and was teary. Still
am, at the memory.
Last month he wrote a few letters. Benjamin takes fonts seriously, and spent just shy of ten minutes addressing each envelope. I thank the anonymous postal service worker who took the extra time to decipher the ornate, and crowded, letters. The addressees were his siblings, who do not currently have pen pals. I left the content up to Ben.
"Happy birthday! I hope you get your favorite kind of cake."
"I am very sorry to hear that your apartment was flooded. I hope things are better."
The recipients of these notes were appreciative. Being thanked, especially on paper fills a need that all of us share. While I do not often write my gratitude to God, today is a day earmarked for such sentiments. Even people who usually skip the mealtime blessing, remember it on Thanksgiving.
I notice that the second half of that word implies an effort. A connection between two, comprised of indebtedness. While we are at it, it's a good time to offer a benediction as well. I recall a note Ben wrote to his sister after her wedding.
"May God bless you and your onion."
Love,
