Thankful For All Of The Thankful Fors

Last night, surrounded by moving boxes, was the first night in a long time when much of our family was gathered around our dinner table. In attendance were three of our children, our daughter-in-law, our granddaughter, a close family friend, and his date. It had been a while since we had an opportunity to share our “Thankful Fors” around that table, and this would be perhaps one of the last in this house.

The family friend had participated in this dinner table ritual at our home many times, but his date had not. He said to her, “Thankful Fors are great. You’re going to love this.” She couldn’t have known what kind of emotional experience she was in for.

But I should have known I wouldn’t make it through the round without falling apart in tears.

Our Thankful Fors

We didn’t have this practice in my home growing up. My wife’s family didn’t either. So this ritual at the family dinner table was born in this house in Santa Clarita, California. Something we have taken great pride in is the fact that we always had dinner together, no TV or devices, every night when our children were growing up. It was rare when that was not true.

That was a conscious decision, as was the decision to start sharing, every night at the dinner table, what we were thankful for that day. I don’t remember whose idea it was, but it was likely Racquel’s. Some families pray before they eat. We took turns sharing our thanks while we were eating. There was no limit on what you could share, but you had to share one thing.

After a while, it just became our thing. We always went in age order from youngest to oldest, but I made a game out of who would go first. We never did these before we started eating. We always start and at some point during the meal, when a break in the conversation would come, I’d simply say, “Thankful Fors.” And little hands would fly into the air.

Initially, I’d choose the first person to raise their hand. They’d go first, and then everyone else would follow in age order. After a while, I changed it up. I’d bark it out and then pick someone at random, no matter who raised their hand first. Last night, I picked the youngest person at the table, Zachariah, to begin.

So Many Memories

Racquel used to leave a jar full of Thankful Fors on the kitchen counter when she’d take her trips to Kenya to visit the orphanage. The kids would take turns pulling one out each night she was gone. They were giddy about it. Then they’d be the person to read Mom’s thankful for when it was her turn in the age order. They felt special. And it made it feel like she was there with us.

Girlfriends and boyfriends are often nervous about participating the first time they sit around our table. We’re a big family. It can be intimidating. It has been a joy to watch them, over time, understand that if you’re at our table and are asked to participate in Thankful Fors, you’re family.

Friends I’ve met in my travels have participated in our ritual. I hope they have felt like family too.

And I will never forget the massive round of Thankful Fors that took place at our house, at Abbey’s request, as part of their rehearsal dinner the night before she married my son, Noah. Surrounded by family and friends, she stood up and said, “The Turners have a tradition, and it would mean a lot to me and Noah if we could do it tonight. So many tears fell that night. Happy tears. Joyous tears.

I’m tearing up just writing this.

The House That Gave Birth To So Many Thankful Fors

Last night, I was fine. I really was. Right up until the moment Noah threw out, “And I’m thankful for this beautiful house.” I almost lost it right there.

Racquel went next, and I was able to hold it together through her round of thanks. But when it came time for me to say mine, I couldn’t get the words out. I got out “I’m thankful for…” and that was it. I have no idea how long it took me to pull myself together.

There was so much I wanted to say. And I just couldn’t.

When I finally had enough composure to speak, I said, “I’m thankful for all the Thankful Fors this home has given birth to.”

And then I broke down again. As I’m doing now.

I’m confident, however, that no matter what table we’re sitting at, no matter where we are, when I call out “Thankful Fors,” in that moment, someone will raise their hand and we will all be home again.

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