A Thanksgiving Primer
- Dr. Tom Wagner
- 5 hours ago
- 5 min read
You don’t have to be an iconographer to frame something holy. This article invites you to consider how things like Thanksgiving traditions become the canvases that hold our most enduring stories.
The Blog Article Follows this Invitation!
February SMC Event: Relationships
Sunday, February 15
Early bird tickets available for a limited time!
"The authenticity of the thoughts and discussion brought so much peace and acceptance. And Lynn’s music and voice were incredible, truly.” – SMC Event Attendee
SMC events honor that what is deepest within us is most universal between us. Your gift helps create space for reflection, connection, and belonging — donate here. 100% of donations are dedicated to the cost associated with bringing SMC events to more people, more often.
A Thanksgiving Primer
It might have been Anthony De Mello, but then again, it could have been Leo Buscaglia. Long before Eckhart Tolle staked his claim and cashed in on the “now” moment, these two prophets of my adolescence were extolling the virtue of full and attentive presence in the here-and-now. I’m not sure if they said it explicitly, or if I extrapolated from their words. Either way, I came to believe that if you want to kill a spontaneous moment for somebody, interrupt whatever’s going on, and ask them to pose for a picture. Suddenly, a potential peak experience becomes a posed experience for posterity. It’s like killing the butterfly so that you can pin it into your collection of specimens. It’s still pretty, but it’s not a living thing anymore.
If I’m honest, there’s a bigger reason I hate posing for pictures that has nothing to do with high-falutin’ Buddha-esque ideas about the Power of Now. Truth be told, I’ve always been—what’s known in photography circles as— “an eye-closer,” and a “no-teeth smiler.” For me, being asked to pose for a picture is like receiving a personalized invitation to awkward self-consciousness.
None of this would matter much, except that I married a picture taker. For over thirty years, I’ve harrumphed and complained each time that Lisa has voluntold me that we’re taking a picture. Just like Jean-Luc Picard confronting the feared Borg Collective, I soon learned that “resistance [was] futile.” Despite Leo, Anthony, and Eckhardt’s warnings, after thirty years of posing under protest, guess what I discovered? I’m glad for those pictures! They pull up sacred stories for me…and not just the nostalgic kind…but the lasting kind.
“Remember that incredibly quaint breakfast restaurant in Charlevoix, Michigan, where the locals hung their coffee mugs on the wall for their own personal use?” Me either, unless I look at one of the pictures of my kids posed there. Many of Lisa’s masterpieces function the way that Dick Van Dyke’s chalk drawings functioned in the movie, Mary Poppins. They invite the viewer to step into the picture to savor a moment of grace and beauty. Such an exercise has a way of reintroducing the viewer to the enduring grace of their life that continues to unfold in the current moment that, in its own way, contains just as much beauty and grace. In their own way, they remind me to conduct Beauty Checks in the current time zone.
Shaping Memories
In Lisa’s hands, a camera functions like the iconographer’s paint and canvas. With her camera, she puts a frame around something sacred that allows a way to get back to it. As you may have gathered, I’m no photographer. However, looking back, I can see that, like Lisa, I’ve always tried to intentionally frame memories for my family that can give way to meaningful stories and traditions. Last week’s SMC article observed that “human beings naturally form stories about the experiences they’re having, even before the experiences have concluded.” Since my family members are busy making meaning all the time, I might as well see if I can help them color those meanings with beauty, humor, and delight. Thanksgiving, more than any other holiday, has always struck me as a time for the intentional framing of memories and stories. From the care you give to shaping the environment, to the food traditions that last from year to year—attending to the sights, the smells, and the sounds of that night, frame a shared memory. Those memories give way to stories, and those stories have a way of weaving the bonds of community.
Thanksgiving 2025
Our home was always Thanksgiving Central for a collection of nearly thirty people, including my wife’s family, my St. Louis brother’s family, my mom, and other strays that we’d pick up along the way. After an interruption of several years of doing Thanksgiving in my wife’s Wisconsin hometown, Thanksgiving is coming back home to our house! That’ll mean the return of my yearly Thanksgiving ghost story told on a walk between dinner and the dessert. It’ll mean collecting everyone’s favorite song of the year, and stitching them into a playlist for singing, and maybe even a little dancing while we’re cooking all day and watching football. Now that the children are mostly all adults, we’ll have to redraw teams for the adults vs. kids’ kickball game on Friday.
Dialogue and Discussion Questions:
Longtime SMC readers know that “the Dialogue” section of this article is set aside for a good conversation over a cup of coffee—with a friend, with a group, or just with yourself! As always, feel free to share your reaction or reflection in the “Comments” section below.
Whether you host Thanksgiving or not, what are the ways that you bring your intentionality to this holiday?
What are your yearly traditions?
What traditional dishes simply have to be there for you to call it “Thanksgiving?”
A Gratitude Exercise This article mentioned stepping back into a picture. Is there a Thanksgiving memory that you would care to step back into? Here is a meditation you might try. After getting into a meditative posture, just take some time to attend to your breathing and center yourself. Step back into the memory you have selected with the eyesight of your imagination. See the scenery of that moment, hear the sounds, take in the smells and the tastes, experience the tactility of that moment. Above all, attend to the feelings within, and let them grow. When this exercise has had a chance to breathe, and it feels right, express gratitude in whatever way makes sense for you. When finished, take time to savor the experience in a journal. If you have the luxury, then discuss this experience with someone.
A Thanksgiving Grief Exercise If you know that grief will be a companion this holiday season, consider this exercise.
Preparation: Sometime before Thanksgiving, write a letter to your beloved person just telling them how you feel and what they mean to you. Next, select a meaningful song. Select a meaningful scripture, poem, or prose. Gather a candle and a quiet space.
A Ritual Just for You and Your Friend/Family Member: Sometime on Thanksgiving, set aside ten or fifteen minutes to be alone. Begin by lighting your candle. Call your beloved to mind. Play the song you selected while you center yourself. When you’re ready, read your letter to your beloved. Take all the time you need. Read your scripture or poetry selection. Take time in the quiet, and conclude your ritual with something that means something to you (e.g. The Lord’s Prayer, Peace Prayer, another song, etc.). Blow out the candle and move into your day. This ritual holds the potential of providing a space for your grief, rather than carrying it around all day in the background.
Please share with the SMC community your thoughts and/or reflections in the comments below.