Remember, the first Thanksgiving. The settlers who had disembarked from the Mayflower had endured a horrid winter with many of them dying. Some had starved to death. Some had suffered malnutrition. Some had succumbed to diseases. Nearly half of them perished.

The following year, they received help from the remains of the Indian tribe that had suffered death and disease, too. Banding together, the two groups worked together and the Indians showed them techniques to help them in an environment much different from England.

The efforts were a success. The following fall, the two groups celebrated the harvest and their survival.

We remember the food every year. We often have mental images of Pilgrims and Indians sitting around a big table feasting. But their gratitude was not for the food alone, not for the harvest alone. They were glad to be alive. For that, they praised God.

Here we are in Thanksgiving 2020. If you are reading this, you are alive. Praise God! It has been a crazy year with many tumultuous twists and turns that I don’t think anyone could have predicted. As a nation, we have endured fear and heartache, hope and loneliness, change and boredom. Many facets of our lives, like communicating remotely, have moved from occasional to regular occurrences. We have learned new technology and techniques. Things we never considered personally, like wearing masks in public, have transitioned to normal behavior. It’s gone so far into our daily lives, that used masks have become the cigarette butt of the day.

On top of all that, it was a record hurricane year—going into the Greek alphabet to name storms. And people have created hurricanes of their own when they forget we are a nation of equals.

If you transported back to Thanksgiving 2019, would you have been able to predict anything of this year? I certainly wouldn’t.

But we live and are alive. That means God still has purpose for us. God still has purpose for you. God still has purpose for me. And that’s part of what we need to celebrate this Thanksgiving Day.

You may not be able to see many of your family because of the current rules and regulations. You may have lost family and friends this year. You may feel down or downtrodden. But you are alive. And life is a gift of God. Every day is a gift of God.

When the Pilgrims celebrated the first Thanksgiving, both they and their Native American friends had endured a rough year. They had watched a lot of their friends and family perish. They had worked long hard hours to grow crops, hunt game and fish—often interrupted by burials. In many ways, it had not been a good year.

But, when the harvest was in, they were alive and they had hope. For these blessings, in spite of their sorrow and grief, they gave thanks.

Our year has had some blessings in the midst of its many trials. It has had bad, even horrible moments. But I do not think it was as bad as that first year the Pilgrims spent on American soil.

And still, they gave thanks to their Creator. Can we do anything less?

This week, back in the mid-90s, Erik came into the world. (I figure as he’s getting older, it’s his option whether he wants to give anyone the exact year!)

I was almost thirty-three at the time and both really wanted to be a mother and was terrified by the prospect. I was also beginning to be convinced that it would never happen.

Then, seemingly overnight, a 7 ½ pound baby boy was placed in my arms.

I was afraid I would break him.

After a rough start at being parent and child, (he lost too much weight at first), he began to grow rapidly as if making up for lost time. Soon, you could tell the size of his clothes by taking whatever his age was at the time and doubling it. He was taller than average and heavier than average.

Perhaps that was a foreshadowing of his eventual 6’2”?

Also, early on, he seemed to suffer from seasonal allergies even though his pediatrician at the time said that babies can’t have allergies. All I know is that blue nose thing got a lot of use in April and May. At one rough patch, we even had to rent a nebulizer to help him breathe.

Through it all, he kept growing.

He loved living things even as a baby and small child. He would stare at our aloe plant for hours or toddle around after our cats. In fact, because Trixie doted on him, Erik’s first word was ‘kitty’.

Gary and I were outranked by a feline.

He loved the outdoors and wanted to be there all the time. We went on lots of walks and hikes toting baby Erik. We had an all-terrain stroller and when a climb up a mountain didn’t work with the stroller, we had a backpack carrier that Erik rode in.

His passion for the outdoors was woven into his very being. I think it’s part of why he thrived in Scouts, part of why he loves to garden, and part of what directed his career path.

As a mom, it’s fun to see in hindsight what God put there all along.

Next in his growing up years came allergies to foods and medicines on the bad side and trucks and books on the good side. Or books about trucks. I intentionally put myself in construction-related traffic jams so he could watch the trucks at work!

Again, did that foreshadow the first vehicle he called his own? (A Ram truck with a big Hemi engine for those of you who have never seen the white beast.)

After that, Erik began to pray in earnest for a baby brother.

We all know how that one turned out!

So in the first two years of his life, Erik showed a lot of the personality, interests and dreams that have developed him into a young man that his dad and I are both proud of.

Happy birthday, Erik!

Today is Veteran’s Day. Thank everyone who served in the military or is currently serving in order to preserve our freedom in this crazy world.

In June of 1986, I headed off to Officer Training School in San Antonio, Texas, both fearful and hopeful. Physically, I had gotten myself in the best shape I had ever been in. I could run (at least better than I ever had before), I could do push ups and sit ups with the best of them. It would be hard, but I was convinced that I could do it physically.

The question was whether I could deal with it mentally.

The first six weeks I cried a lot, especially when I was alone in a bathroom stall. There weren’t many other times to be alone!

Some of the key memories during the process included: fainting shortly after getting the series of vaccines, falling asleep while standing at attention, and learning how to make my socks ‘smile’. They always say that a team is only as good as the weakest link, and physically, I definitely was our flight’s weakest link. Even so, we came out on top as the best flight in the graduating class. We were also part of the top squadron.

What a way to finish off the ordeal of OTS!

From there, I went to Air Weapons training at Tyndall AFB in Florida. The most annoying thing about that was constantly switching what shift we were on. We’d do 2 weeks of one shift and then change to another one for two weeks. Even so, I ended up as second in the class. During our scope exam, I even beat the instructor!

With all these triumphs in the face of adversity, I expected more of the same when I got to my permanent assignment in Germany.

A Senior Master Sergeant who I worked with for a few weeks as I waited to transfer, gave me a warning that only made sense to me in hindsight. “LT, there are still places in this force where people are not ready for a woman like you. When you run into them, be strong.”

I thanked him offhandedly. I knew he meant well, but I wasn’t expecting any problems as long as I worked hard.

He was so right that he was prophetic.

When I reported for duty, my new commanding officer smiled and asked me into his office. Then he shut the door and the smile disappeared.

I had been expecting a welcome. What I got was, “If you repeat what I am telling you now, I will deny it categorically. But I do not believe women belong on this site or in this career field. And I will do whatever I can to get you kicked out of the Air Force.”

He did exactly that. Two days short of my two years in service (intentional so that I would not get the benefits, but they would get the maximum use out of me) I was released from duty. Why? For failing to complete the training that they would not let me complete.

That was in spite of me actually writing much of the training. I did such a good job on writing that training that two first lieutenants who took credit for my work got promoted to captain.

There were many ordeals big and small during that year and a half. There were also triumphs where I could point to the strength of the God I served. There were amazing people who stood by me and helped me.

But for years after I left the Air Force, I had nightmares about trying to serve or do my job and not being allowed to. But in addition, and that leads to the title, I felt like an imposter when someone would ask me if I was a veteran. I did not meet the four-year commitment. I did not fulfill my tour.

So if you see a hint of a grimace when asked about the military, you now know the rest of the story.