We heated with diesel fuel and cooked with propane. We could barely afford that stewing hen, much less a turkey on the military salary, but I wanted to prepare my first Thanksgiving dinner. Half way through the roasting, our trailer-size oven went cold. It ran out of propane. Days before payday and we didn't have six cents for a stamp to write home. None of the military families living off post did. We dug in the drawers, car, purse, pockets and came up with 99 cents. We went to the gas station up on the highway and asked the attendant to fill our five gallon drum with 99 cents worth of propane.
Today, so many years later, I am thankful for the man who filled our tank to the brim, and sent us down the road with his blessing.
We invited Bob and Karen over to share a meal. We heard a racket outside, looked out the trailer window at the field across the road and the small forest of stunted trees where the buffalo meandered. We noticed a middle age Eskimo couple walking down the gravel road, and it broke our hearts when we realized the man was verbally abusing the woman. Again. It was a common occurrence, a way of life for them, but especially hard to witness on Thanksgiving. Karen and I wanted to go rescue her.
Some times all we can do is offer a thought or prayers. Today I pray for all of those who are hungry, hurting, alone, in need. I am grateful for my many blessings and count my blog buddies among them. Wishing you and yours a blessed day. Enjoy your "stuffing."