In the last few years I have not always been good at keeping friends. One of the friends I have lost was like a sister to me.

We parted ways over Just. She did not like it and I could not apologize for it.

When I think of thanksgiving I think of this friend. She and I talked about my practice of writing down blessings when times got tough.

She did it as well, but joked that whenever she got to that point she would groan inwardly–oh, no, I am at this low point?! I have to write my blessings?

I miss her, just as I miss family, former church family, mentors, and an optimist’s belief in human goodness.

I also miss old Thanksgiving Day.

I miss shops being closed.

I miss knowing people were celebrating together.

Thanksgiving has been a thinly veiled consumerist eve for years, but now even the veil is gone.

And the truth is probably better. Stuff is our god in this capitalist monster we have created.

If we ever did find the Real Giver of all things we would be safe–joyful in praise to our Maker instead of slaves to the stuff someone in sweatshop has made.

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