Years ago, a Thanksgiving Day editorial in a newspaper told of a school teacher who asked her first graders to draw a picture of something they were thankful for. Most of the children were from poor neighborhoods, and the young woman sorrowfully thought of how little they had to be thankful for. Nevertheless, she knew most would draw pictures of stubby brown turkeys on tables loaded with bowls of food.
That's not what a little boy named Douglas turned in.
The teacher was taken aback by his picture of a childishly drawn hand.
The whole class was captivated too. The teacher asked them to guess whose hand it was. "I think it must be the hand of God that brings us food," said one child. "It's a farmer," said another, "because he grows the turkeys."
Once she put her pupils back to work, the teacher bent over Douglas's desk and quietly asked him whose hand it was.
"It's your hand, Teacher," he mumbled.
The woman smiled and went back to her desk. There she recalled that frequently at recess she would hold one of the children's hands. She hadn't thought much about it. But obviously Douglas, a scrubby forlorn child, had. That simple, caring gesture was something he was thankful for.
"Perhaps this is everyone's Thanksgiving," the teacher said to herself, "not for the material things given to us, but for the chance, in whatever small way, to give to others."
-- Adapted from a sermon by Eric Lenhart, illustrated by Stories from the Heart
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