We often speak of gratitude in the abstract, but it is in the unexpected moments, the disrupted plans, that we sometimes find its purest form.
I almost missed it. The year my godmother, Maude Williams, the architect of all my childhood Thanksgiving memories, announced a change of venue. As her designated driver, I inwardly groaned. Tradition was being upended, and I was a reluctant participant.
We arrived at the home of the Honorable Edna Moseley and her husband, John. She was a political pioneer, the first Black woman on Aurora, Colorado’s City Council; he, an original Tuskegee Airman, a living piece of history. Their home was elegant, but it was the atmosphere that struck me, a palpable sense of intention. This was more than a dinner; it was a gathering of significance.
Then, Mr. Moseley, the patriarch, asked us to stand. He initiated a simple ritual: state your name, your connection, and one thing you are thankful for in this moment.
As the circle moved, something shifted in the room. The perfunctory “I’m thankful for family” wasn’t enough here. People spoke of struggles overcome, of kindnesses received, of the simple, profound gift of being in that room. The recitation of names and stories wove an invisible thread between us, connecting lawyer to teacher, neighbor to newcomer, young to old.
When my turn came, my earlier dread had been replaced by a swelling emotion. “I am thankful,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected, “for the gift of quality time with people who feel like real family.” In that moment, I understood. Legacy isn’t just about grand achievements, like breaking barriers or flying legendary missions. It is also about the rituals we create—the deliberate act of forging community in a candlelit room.
That evening became a blueprint for my life. The food was sublime, but the conversation was sustenance. I had witnessed how a simple question: What are you thankful for, right now? This one question can transform a meal into a communion. It is a tradition I have carried forward, the undeniable highlight of my own holiday gatherings.
This Thanksgiving, as we gather around our own tables, let us remember that the greatest honor we can pay to the Maude’s, Edna’s, and John’s in our lives is to extend their legacy of open doors and intentional welcome. Let us look for the empty chairs and fill them, love our friends fiercely as family, and never underestimate the power of a shared moment of thanks.
It’s in these acts that we truly keep the flame of gratitude burning.
What are you thankful for, in this very moment?
HAPPY THANKSGIVING…HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR FAMILY TIME.
