I pledge to reclaim Thanksgiving Day

If I were Thanksgiving, I would feel a bit underappreciated.

Seems like we go straight from Halloween to Christmas cheer and leave the one holiday where we are to show gratitude lost in the transition.

To add insult to injury, businesses and retail giants are opening up on Thanksgiving Day to lure in customers looking for the best holiday deals – for Christmas.

A few years ago, at least, we would finish up Thanksgiving dinner and rush our families out the doors so we could slip in a nap before having to be at Wal-Mart by 5 a.m.

Now, we gobble up the turkey meal, hop in the car and go over the river and through the woods to the nearest shopping outlet, we go.

Poor, Thanksgiving. I can imagine how it must feel.

Dismissing this holiday says a lot about the moral character of this country.

According to a 2014 article from The Truth about moral decline in America:

• Fewer people attend church and nearly one-fifth of all adults have no religious affiliation;

• America has the highest divorce rate in the world;

• More than half of all couples move in together before they get married;

• The average young American will spend 10,000 hours playing video games before the age of 21;

• Average SAT scores have been falling for years;

• The rate of violent crime in the U.S. is increasing;

• America has the highest rate of illegal drug use on the entire planet;

• America has the highest incarceration rate and the largest total prison population in the entire world by a wide margin; and the discouraging list goes on and on…

Mahatma Gandhi said, “You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

Well, here goes. I pledge the following:

I refuse to allow society to alter my idea of Thanksgiving. I will not interrupt family time to get to Belk’s. (Now, if all the family members have left already, that’s a different story.)

I will not compromise storytelling, laughter and a second piece of cake with my sisters for a lawn chair and a blanket outside in the cold waiting for a store’s coupon.

I will embrace every single minute of Thanksgiving, every delicious bite of smoked turkey and chitterlings (yeah, I said it), and every mouth-watering piece of dessert without my mind wandering if I really need another 34-piece food storage set as I gaze the leftovers.

I will welcome our family tradition of holding hands and telling what we’re thankful for without thanking God in advance for the pair of boots I plan to buy on Black Friday.

I will enjoy seeing the men in the living room watching football while the women clean the kitchen. (Wait a minute. On second thought, not.)

Bottom line: I will not forsake Thanksgiving for Black Friday. Friday will come and yes, I will be out there hunting for deals like most consumers.

But – it will be FRIDAY and not THURSDAY, Thanksgiving Day.

Who will join me in this crusade to reclaim Thanksgiving for its true purpose? Gratitude, fellowship and family – not deals and steals.

Have a happy Thanksgiving, wholeheartedly.

Willingness to forgive is easier said than done

Oftentimes, I like to flip through my book of daily devotions for women and read whatever page it stops on, rather than going to the current date.

This was the case a couple of weeks ago. And the page I “divinely” stopped on spoke of forgiveness: “A Willingness to Forgive.”

I pondered the appropriateness of this topic for my personal life. I searched my heart and even whispered within myself that I didn’t have “ought or fault” against anyone, so why would I need a lesson on forgiveness?

Fast forward a few days later and the unspeakable happened. A white 21-year-old man walked into Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston and sat with the Bible study attendees for almost an hour before shooting nine of them, including the pastor, multiple times.

People were outraged and angry – and rightly so. I was, too. Still am.

So it was stunning to hear the victims’ family members express their forgiveness to the shooter during his first court appearance via video only a couple of days later.

They forgave him? Already?

Of course as Christians we’re suppose to forgive others. We recite it in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

In order for God to forgive us, we must forgive others. This is easier to do when someone says something to offend you, or admits they lied to you or even betrays your trust.

But murder in the first degree – nine times – because of the color of someone’s skin? This is tough to even fathom in the 21^st century let alone forgive.

Yet, the family members of the victims remarkably did. As I write this, tears well in my eyes because of their terrific courage and their unshakable love to do what is right.

That itself is the greatest testament to the legacy of the lives lost. The family members credited their slain loved ones’ influence and teachings as the inspiration for their forgiveness.

I have several Christian friends and acquaintances who are struggling with forgiving this shooter, some of them ministers.

They are not there yet. They wrangle with praying for him.

I’ll be honest, I thought I was there. That is until I paid my respects to Senator Clementa Pinckney and the other eight victims last week when I visited Emanuel AME.

To walk into that beautiful edifice and know the evil those parishioners encountered is emotionally overwhelming.

It almost feels more natural not to forgive him.

Yet I am reminded of the page from my daily devotion: “God’s commandments are not intended to be customized for the particular whims of particular believers. God’s word is not a menu from which each of us may select items á la carte, according to our own desires. God’s holy word is a book that must be taken in its entirety; all of God’s commandments are to be taken seriously. And, so it is with forgiveness.”

Forgiveness is difficult, but it is God’s way – and it must be ours, too.

Sure we’re allowed to be angry. But we must not sin in our anger. Forgiving him does not minimize what he did. It does not excuse his behavior. Instead, it promotes our healing and helps our hearts to mend. It is more for us.

Anthony Thompson, the husband of slain Myra Thompson, told the shooter, “We would like you to take this opportunity to repent. Repent, confess, give your life to the one who matters most: Christ. So that he can change it, can change your ways no matter what happened to you and you’ll be OK. Do that and you’ll be better off than what you are right now.”

How incredible and what spiritual fortitude to pray for the soul of the person who killed your loved one? Their response to this tragedy is a lesson in unconditional love and we must follow the path they are forging for us.

As I waited in line to enter the church last week, a minister stood behind me. I asked him if he, too, were encountering Christians who were having trouble forgiving the shooter.

“Yes,” he answered. “In order for people to forgive, they must have the love of God in their heart. You can’t do it without the love of God.”

As we continue to pray for the victims’ families, as we continue to pray for Charleston, as we pray for improved race relations, remember to pray for your fellow Christians who are struggling with forgiveness.

Because in this case, it is easier said than done.

My Best April - Part 3 (final in a series)

Hustle and flow: Will pose for tips

My gaping over the extreme extravagance of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, Calif., was suddenly interrupted:

“Excuse me, would you like to support our high school football program. We are selling these candy bars?”

“How much?”

“$10.”

“For a king size candy bar? Really? No thank you. We’ll just give you a donation.”

And we gave him $4 and walked away.

Even if I thought he was legitimate, I wouldn’t have given him $10 for a candy bar that I could buy from CVS two for $3.

My intuitive nature, however, tells me he was more of a hustler instead of a high school football player.

I was actually quite surprised to be propositioned on the rich and famous Rodeo Drive. It caught me totally off guard. Amid the expensive, fancy cars, and the exquisite buildings donning popular designer names, this hustler stood out like a knock off Michael Kors. (I know because I have one).

This got me to thinking: Hustling is everywhere and the business of it is evolving. Yes, it is a business. Some of these artists make a lot of money.

Last year while visiting downtown Charlotte, a street dancer was performing on a corner. I pulled out my cell phone to take a photo and he pointed at me, then to a sign on a box near his feet that read: A donation for photos.

Now I didn’t want a photo with him. I just wanted a photo of him. I was going to tip him anyway – after I took the photo – because I respect good talent. But his demanding gesture caused me to tip less than I would have.

While in Vegas, several street musicians were a bit aggressive in having spectators pay first before taking a photo or video.

This perturbs me. Even a restaurant only applies your tip  “after” you eat. Here’s the deal: If you’re in a public place, people can photograph or videotape you – without your permission and whether you’re performing or not – and do not have to tip.

Tipping street musicians is a courtesy, and a good one to possess. But these artists need to keep in mind they perform at the mercy of our generosity and that’s a risk they take.

I found myself on this vacation tipping more to those who seemed to simply enjoy sharing their gifts, those who appreciated the fact that we paused our hustle and bustle to acknowledge and value their talent.

Now, people who want to take photos with cartoon or super hero characters are a different story. These people are not performing. They are simply in costume. If you want someone dressed as Batman to stop and pose in a photo with you, the Dark Knight is going to ask for a tip. After all, he has to stop and strike a pose.

But why do we pay to have photos taken with the Transformers or the Avengers or Michael Jackson lookalikes?

When we’re at Disney World, Mickey and Minnie don’t charge us for photos. But on the Vegas strip, it’ll cost you to pose with Elvis.

It’s all hustle and flow, and I don’t knock anyone who is trying to make a living. For some street musicians, it’s a way to expose their talents or to supplement their income.

For the cast of characters, it’s a way to make easy, quick money from enthralled tourists.

I respect the game. All I ask is that you be nice about it.

So when planning your vacation, keep a few loose dollar bills in your pocket not only for the tour guide, the bellhop and the friendly waitress, but also for SpongeBob SquarePants, the break dancer, the street magician, Superman, the bagpipes player, the showgirls … and for a $10 candy bar in case you get hungry.

Yep, I had to tip for this photo.

My Best April - Part 2

Spiritual lessons of the Grand Canyon

“I can’t wait to see this big ditch.”

Day two of my West Coast getaway was spent on a bus tour to the Grand Canyon.

We couldn’t possibly get this close to "the big ditch" and not go see it. (Close is relative.)

While I had an interest in seeing the canyon, it was on my traveling partner’s must-see list in life. For as long as I’ve known him, he has always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon.

When booking the tour, the hotel concierge offered us a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon.

My eyes widened with eagerness. “Yes,” I said.

“No,” he uttered. The turbulence on the plane ride to Las Vegas was enough off-the-ground excitement for him.

So we opted for the bus tour – one that departed at 6:25 a.m. and wouldn’t return until 10 p.m. that night. I wasn’t quite expecting an all-day excursion. I was thinking more like a half day. We go, we see, we conquer, and return to the hypnotizing neon lights of Vegas.

Not. It took half a day just to get there. We didn’t arrive to “the big ditch” until 2:30 p.m. But mind you, it wasn’t a direct trip. We stopped for photo opportunities at the Hoover Dam and then at a gift shop on Historic Route 66, the first major U.S. Highway.

So far, so good. No, make that so far, so great. The bus driver/tour guide was comical; we sat near a friendly couple from Greensboro, N.C., which is where our flight departed; and the honey baked ham lunches the tour provided were yummy for our tummies.

The only annoying part was a couple sitting directly in front of us who must have been on their honeymoon. They couldn’t keep their hands – or lips for that matter – off of each other. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of public display of affection, but they needed a room and at one point, I was willing to pay for it to get them off the bus.

Anyway, we finally arrived at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon National Park, which stands 7,700 feet above sea level. According to the guide, the United States only owns 50 miles of the Grand Canyon, which is the park part. The rest of the 277-mile world wonder belongs to Native Americans.

The guide says way back when, the U.S. saw the canyon as a hindrance – as in how could it be crossed rather than seeing its geological grandeur and beauty.

Fast forward hundreds of years and the Grand Canyon gets five million visitors per year. Entranceway into the national park features an airport – dubbed the biggest smallest airport in the world. It was an airport crash there that led to the formation of the Federal Aviation Administration, says the guide.

The national park itself consists of six hotels, a restaurant, grocery store, fire department, medical clinic and a school – all for the employees and their families who live at the park. Yes, you read correctly. Employees live at the Grand Canyon.

If your environment affects your mood, those should be some of the happiest people in the world. To awaken each day to such natural beauty and breathtaking views is life at its grandest.

The Grand Canyon looks like a rock city. The varying heights of the cliffs and the different colors of the rock layers paint a natural masterpiece, one that the mighty Colorado River helped to carve at least five million years ago.

It is spiritual there, to say the least. Our spirits immediately connected with the awesome God that created this. One can only stand in awe and reverence not only the creation, but the creator.

There are many lessons to learn from its formation. Like how a persistent, faithful river didn’t allow a mountain to stand in its way – and neither should we. Instead, it carved its way through it and like so, we should persist in life when confronted with obstacles that appear as mountains.

Like how erosion of the rock layers reveals the beauty of the canyon – so is our strength and character revealed during breakdowns in life. It may take years to see the results of our faithfulness, but at the right time, it will show itself and leave us in awe – as does the Grand Canyon.

“It was amazing. It was breathtaking,” my friend said of seeing it. “I had always heard about the Grand Canyon and wanted to go but I never imagined it. You can never imagine it. You can see pictures but you can’t imagine what it really looks like until you see it in person.”

And after seeing it in person, it’s no longer fair to call it a “big ditch.” It’s much more than that.

My best April - Part 1

West Coast getaway was zoo-manity

Have you ever felt like you must be about to die because so many things in your life are going well?

That was my April 2015.

Somebody pinch me.

I have felt this way before. It happens whenever I’m checking off things on my bucket list. My warped psychology tells me that whenever I complete everything on the list, my time here on Earth will be up – so as I check off, I add on. I said it was warped.

Anyway, in early April, I completed three things on my bucket list during my West Coast getaway for my 45^th birthday. (In addition to starring in a one-woman play at a community theater, but that’s another column).

The trip included Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, and a drive to California, where we visited Santa Monica, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles and Hollywood.

I’ve wanted to go to Hollywood since I was a child, so much so that my brother-in-law’s nickname for me was Hollywood.

While it was exciting to finally walk on the famous Hollywood Boulevard, what totally took me by surprise was my fascination with Sin City.

The entrancing lights, the high energy, the spectacular shows, the architectural magnificence, the myriad of people, the amusing characters, the tempting casinos – all were the cynosure of my eyes.

I was literally enthralled by it all.

I saw my first Vegas show, Zumanity (zoo plus humanity, meaning human zoo), a Cirque du Soleli perfomance in the New York, New York Hotel & Casino. Let me just say it was erotic, to say the least.

It’s billed as, “The sensual side of Cirque du Soleli.” Imagine very talented acrobats acting out 50 Shades of Grey to music. Get the picture.

My best friend recommended this show to me. The jury is still out as to why.

I played blackjack in Caesar’s Palace – and lost money in Caesar’s Palace; watched the light show at the Bellagio Hotel; watched a volcano erupt in front of the Mirage; drank a cosmopolitan in the Cosmopolitan (It was only fitting, right?); and darted in and out other casinos just to be able to say I’d been there.

On every corner, half-naked women, your favorite movie characters, musicians and yes, even a real pig were offering photos for donations; and hired help littered your pockets and the streets with cards of more half-naked women.

They don’t call it Sin City for nothing.

On Day 2, all the temptation on the Las Vegas strip couldn’t keep me from rising at 5 a.m. to catch a tour bus to Arizona to see what I had only read about in books: the Grand Canyon

On the trip there, we stopped at the Hoover Dam and the famous Route 66 – the first major U.S. highway.

If my eyes were not my own witness, I would never believe something so naturally formed could be this magnificent. There isn’t an adjective to describe the beauty of this world wonder.

God is in the details. And in Part 2 of this column series, I will delve more into that.

Somebody pinch me.

The drive to California was a journey through the Mojave Desert. While some have said the scenery is drab, I found it sightly.

Yes, it’s dry. The region only gets three inches of rain per year. Yes, there’s not much greenery, just small bushes they call Joshua trees. Yes, water is scarce for desert residents as many of them have to haul it in and store it in tanks.

But the mountains that hug the desert and the roads that carve their way through the mountains are captivating, especially at the entranceway into San Bernardino, Calif.

We were warned of horrific L.A. traffic, but it didn’t seem that bad to me. I’m always a half-glass full kind of girl, anyway. We got there in five hours from Vegas.

With only a day and half in the Golden State, we hit the highlights:

• The Santa Monica Pier, where we rode the famous Ferris wheel that you see in a lot of movies;

• Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, where a dress I inquired about cost $5,000 and it was just a yard of cloth, if that. “It just came off the spring runway during Fashion Week,” the clerk told me. I tried not to choke but my eyes gave it away – such ridiculous extravagance. The only thing I could afford on Rodeo Drive was a selfie.

• We had cocktails with my actress friend and her husband in L.A. near Universal Studios, then we went to Universal City, where  a larger-than-life King Kong towers from a building and the iconic Universal Studios globe begs for pictures.

• Then finally Hollywood Blvd. By the time I got to the one star on the Walk of Fame that I wanted a photo of – Michael Jackson – my cell phone had died. But I did manage a photo in front of where Jimmy Kimmel Live is taped – the last voice I hear before going to bed each night.

It was a grand trip and one that I’ve wanted to take for a long time. I often find myself daydreaming about it and thanking God for the opportunity to travel and see places that my heart yearns to visit.

Not only is April my birthday month, but it is also the month I got laid off from my job two years ago. So creating a happier memory also made this my best April.

For many reading this, a West Coast getaway may seem trivial on your list of things to do or places to go.

But for a little girl from a small town with big dreams of seeing the world, this was a dream come true – one that seems so surreal at times.

I’ve marked it off my bucket list, but I’ve added to it a repeat visit to Vegas to see another show…one that won’t make me feel like, well…

Like I’ve been pinched.

Adjusting to the new normal after surgery, recovery

If I didn’t mind risking sounding too corny, I would title this column, “I’m baaaack.”

Back from where you might ask?

Back from the tight grip of vulnerability. Back from a weakened immune system that questioned my mind-over-matter defense. Back from a spiritual slump.

Thank God, I’m back. I didn’t like being there.

Even though I returned to work two weeks ago, it was in physical nature only. My heart, mind and soul was back at home in bed, wanting to just curl up and sleep. Sleep through this season in my life that had me mentally bound.

As I mentioned over the holidays, I had a complete thyroidectomy on Dec. 29. The surgery went well. Recovery? Not so great.

Four days after my surgery, I started having shortness of breath. It felt as if my lungs would not fully expand to take in all the air I needed. It started out mild then grew to sheer annoyance and discomfort.

I was sure this new symptom was my body’s way of rejecting this new medicine that I must now take for the rest of my life to replace the function of my thyroid: Synthroid, 125 mcg.

I called my surgeon to update her on my condition. Without giving too many personal details, she immediately ordered me to have an ultrasound of my right arm to see if I had a blood clot.

Blood clot? Now I’m really concerned. That test, which was negative, led to me having a CT scan of my chest. Again, looking for a blood clot. That, too, was negative. Thank God.

Still, the shortness of breath continued, leading to sleepless nights and anxiety attacks. One night it got so bad that I went to the emergency room. On the way there, I asked God to please give me a really good doctor who would look for everything.

And that’s exactly what I got. Dr. Tu, a short man dressed in a Burberry jacket, tested me for every possible cause of shortness of breath. He gave me a chest X-ray, a CT scan of my neck and an EKG. All negative. And no flu, no pneumonia. Nothing was there.

So what was causing my labored breathing? My surgeon finally chalked it up to a post-operative symptom and reduced the strength of my Synthroid.

My spiritual advisors, on the other hand, said it was spiritual warfare – believers will get this.

Needless to say, I put on the whole armor to prepare for battle. I started reading the Bible more, even attending Bible study. I found a great church to supplement my Sunday morning worship. I posted scriptures all over my bedroom. I started eating more healthy, took extra Vitamin C, increased my meditation, and even resumed Yoga classes at the gym.

I am happy to report, I am winning. I walk in healing every day. Most days, I’m good. But on others when the shortness of breath tries to creep back up, I knock it down with a Bible verse.

I believe people go through things in order to help deliver others. So if anyone else out there is being attacked in their health – or any other aspect of their lives for that matter – fight it with the word of God. It is the only thing that will defeat the forces against you.

This walk must not be temporary, but a daily lifestyle that includes prayer, meditation, studying of the word and praise.

I can now look back and be grateful for the struggle, for the brokenness, for it is making me more spiritually fit and prepared for the rest of this new year.

I am embracing the new normal – the new me – minus my thyroid.

E-mail Editor Kimberly Harrington at kharrington@pagelandprogressive.com