Islands in a sea of corn

Sometimes you wake in a place so unfamiliar, so foreign to your natural habitat, that you wonder, “how in the hell did I get here?” This is the case for me this Thanksgiving morning. Though I know in a way where I am, because I planned with a friend to visit his family in Kalona, Iowa this holiday week. I in no real way know how in the hell I ended up in the farm land of Iowa nestled in a dated, but cozy home, in one of those many wooded draws that acts as an island of civilization in a vast rolling sea of corn. Never the less, this is where I find myself this morning and my mind keeps asking myself the question, “how did I get here?” Often times we never take the time to think about the many seemingly chance circumstances that guide our lives down the ever-flowing river of life. We often do not take the time to stop and remember that all of the venturing souls that we meet on the rivers journey are people with unique and beautiful stories, stories that deserve to be shared and heard. Even here, in the fly over, farmlands of Iowa there are beautiful sojourners nestled in every wooded island with hopes and dreams and today in some providential way our rivers have converged. This holiday season take time, as you sit around the table, to think about how you got where you are. Take time to remember all of those wonderful people who have in one way or another influenced your journey. And take the time to share with one another all that you are thankful for.

Today, I am thankful for my mother whose beautiful features I share and whose love has safeguarded me through many of life’s storms. I am thankful for my father, who taught me everything I know, well at least anything of any value. I am thankful for my brothers, who have my back despite the times I have failed to have theirs. I am thankful for my friends back home, who make my life rich with joy and laughter. And today I am thankful for islands in the sea of corn that have taught me to remember how I got here.