Giving Thanks

They don’t have Thanksgiving in France, in case you didn’t know. Not only is it an American holiday, but actually I think the very concept of thankfulness goes against the grain here.

That, and most French people have never had pumpkin pie.

So, my friend American friend Amber and I cooked up a scheme to host a small gathering of Americans and French to give thanks.

I’ll spare you the culinary details; you probably can imagine the sort of meal we put together. What really made the day special was the new flavor this place added to the American tradition.

For example, the turkey had to be bought, and hauled across the city via the Metro in a roller-caddy. The stuffing was made with country-style bread, and the pumpkin pie with a variety of mini-pumpkin called a potimarron—a name I love to say. We held the dinner at my friends’ restaurant, which is a tiny café with warm, timeless decoration of black, white, red, and wood.

At home, I’d begun to become accustomed to these little dinner-parties. My dear friend Kristen taught me to prepare with intention and prayer before moving on to the practical details, and it makes all the difference. Over time, these events have taken on a feel, a taste of their own. I can’t explain it rightly, but it’s a sweet concoction of peace, contentment, and family that transcends just the food and enters into the very atmosphere. It’s the Spirit of God at work. Last year’s New Year’s Eve was like this, and I spent it with some of my favorite people in Kansas City.

What a joy to be able to engage this particular skill here in Paris! This city needs love and its inhabitants need intimacy. Amber, myself, and our British friend Sarah who came to help out spent some time praying while the turkey roasted. We prayed that God would build a sense of family during our meal and that he would take his seat as the Papa at the table.

The dimly-lit room filled with friends, and we moved to our seats. Jono cut the turkey and I blessed the meal, and we explained the food and discussed its origins. Within a few minutes, conversation had rooted and after a while, faces were lit with enjoyment. Towards the end of the meal, we began to share, one by one, what we’re thankful for, with a good degree of vulnerability. Someone, in the middle of this, expressed that they sensed a spirit of Family; others affirmed it. We finished the official thanks-giving and began to pray.

And then it was midnight, and our guests began to scatter; dishes began to clatter.

I’m thankful to be here, and thankful to be accompanied by the mighty, close Spirit of the Living God.