On Monday of this Thanksgiving week, I was diagnosed with a case of strep throat and put on antibiotics. Naturally, this isn’t the way I would have chosen to kick-off the holiday, especially since I plan to travel later in the week in order to enjoy my first visit with immediate family in several months. But as it turns out, my unexpected bout with minor illness has actually turned out to be something of a gift.
Left to my own devices, I’m sure that I would have found some way to cram as much as possible into the days before my holiday departure. After all, my work as a pastor offers me a never-ending supply of visits that could be made, sermons that could be researched, and ministries that could be planned. But since my mind is a little on the fuzzy side (and since I have no desire to share my contagion with others), I’ve had to content myself with slowing down a bit. I’ve done some sleeping and some reading. I’ve sent a few emails and made a few phone calls. And somewhere amid this temporary downshift, I’ve been reminded–in more than a cursory way–that I’ve got a lot for which to be thankful.
Given the opportunity to reflect, I’m freshly cognizant of what a full year this has been. I’ve left one church family and have accepted a call to a new one. I’ve said goodbye to a number of dear friends and have begun the joyful (and sometimes exhausting) work of building new relationships. I’ve sold a home (no easy feat, given the current state of our economy) and have moved into a new neighborhood. And along the way there have been questions and fears and prayers and tears and–most of the time, at least–a genuine sense that God is working His purposes out.
Of course, I still hope to be more-or-less “completely healthy” by the time Thanksgiving Day rolls around. But for today, I’m thankful for this minor illness, which has helped me to go slow enough to give thanks. And to all my friends – both old and new – I wish for you a “Slow Thanksgiving.” May God give you enough unhurried moments to see His presence and His blessing.