Childhood poverty leads to life of gratitude

“Eat slowly and drink your water, and you will be ‘thank-full.’ ”

I barely noticed my father’s gentle persuasion to our family, as I sat in awe of the Thanksgiving feast before me.

My wonderment came not from a bounty of turkey, stuffing, cranberries, yams and gravy. We were too poor to afford that.

Instead, Mom had created a culinary art piece worthy of a child’s delight: On a large platter in the center of the table sat a mountain of steaming mashed potatoes, mounded and shaped into a turkey. Walnuts accented the body, wings and head; strands of curled colored construction paper filled out the feathers, cowl and tail. The stuffing inside the “body” was cooked peas.

Simple carbohydrate-laden meals were common in our impoverished household, and we were always advised to drink plenty of water to give a sensation of fullness in the belly.

Humbled by poverty, our family prayed every day with extraordinary thankfulness for the little we had. However, my mother’s prayer that Thanksgiving, when I was but 7 years old, especially struck me with its tone of sincere gratitude — humbly thanking and asking God to help those who were hungry, homeless or alone, and requesting each of us to save a bite for a starving child.

My mother’s prayer awoke a familiar pit of hunger in my stomach, a “constant companion” throughout childhood. More so, however, her words struck a chord in my heart and I surprisingly made a promise to live my life with a slight sense of hunger so that I would never forget about those less fortunate than me.

Fifty-five years later, I have not broken my childhood promise, choosing to always eat simply in modest amounts, and to fast one day a week. For many years on Thanksgiving Day, I have also volunteered in our community to serve hot meals and give clothing away to those in need — and to enjoy a simple meal with them.

Fall, harvest time and Thanksgiving annually reawaken me to my human relationship with heaven and earth and my capacity for thankfulness. I peer heavenward with immense gratitude for the miracle, mystery and bounty of creation, and the possibility of some God as creator. Gazing earthward, I offer reverence and respect for nature and all species on Earth, and I vow to uphold their sacredness and dignity.

By consciously living a life of gratitude, I have cultivated two enduring beliefs: One who knows how to sincerely offer thanks to the Earth, and all her species, finds the foundation of a reverential life. And one who unconditionally serves Earth and others in need finds the foundation of a spiritual life.

“Thank you” with sincerity unites heaven and earth. It has the power to touch and awaken the “intimate center of being” in the stomach that the Japanese call hara. When we say “thank you” with sincerity and humility, we never go hungry — the center of our being is full. This is what my childhood Thanksgiving meal taught me — how to be “thank-full.”

Lane Interfaith Alliance invites all to a “Songs of Thanksgiving” interfaith service and pie potluck at First Church of Christ, Scientist, 1390 Pearl St., at 6:30 p.m. Tuesday. C. Forrest McDowell is an author, composer/performer and co-steward of Cortesia Sanctuary; he has devoted more than 30 years to daily meditation under the direction of an Indian master. This column is coordinated by LIA to offer inspiration, share personal spiritual experiences and bring a deeper understanding of individual faith perspectives with the intention of blessing our community and the world. For more information, visit www.laneinterfaithalliance.org or call 541-344-0430.