Today, many of us will gather around the table with family and friends to give thanks for the blessings of life. My family—Shelley and I—have much to be thankful for, including our kids and grandkids. The former bless us with their example as adults. The latter are a blessing by their giggles, playfulness, and general sweetness. As we like to say, grandkids are the dessert of life.
Blessings also come in many forms. My family personally blessed me with the care they provided. My childhood antics would have been an inspiration for Hank Ketcham, the American cartoonist who created the Dennis the Menace daily comic strip, writing and drawing it from 1951 to 1994. The residuals would have been a small compensation to Carl and Marguerite Lingamfelter. If there is a pantheon somewhere in the cosmos for long-suffering parents, they occupy a prominent place in it.
So too I have been blessed by many school teachers I had over my life who—despite my suboptimal classroom performance—continued to see more in me than I could comprehend in myself.
I’m thankful also for the excellent education I received at VMI. It wasn’t easy, as I had a lot of academics to catch up on when I matriculated in 1969. Again, my professors saw something in me worth developing. In particular, the tactical officers in our Army ROTC department took an interest in me, and their inspiration helped me excel in all things military, culminating in my graduation as a Distinguished Military Graduate.
My blessings continued on active duty, where I encountered many mentors. Professionals like Joe Monko, Dean Phillips, Dick Sherwood, Parker Holden, Lee C. Smith, and Orin “Cotton” Whiddon were all devoted to my personal development. How do I know that’s true? Because they did not hesitate to hold me to account when I sometimes really needed a kick in the pants or a finger in the chest. This, of course, would be greeted by outrage in our woke society today. But for me, hard-edged language, direct and constructive criticism, and occasional praise—only when absolutely warranted—was pure and unadulterated inspiration that made me better. When I was a young officer, there were no safe spaces, sensitivity sessions, or special pronouns to affirm me, only serious-minded people who understood that they had a duty to teach transcendent lessons that would create success for me. They taught me. And in turn, I would teach others. I passed the blessing along.
In addition to a military career, my time in the Virginia General Assembly was also a blessing. I learned much there, sometimes including how much I missed the Army every day. But my legislative colleagues had their own wisdom and offered what can be termed collegial mentoring. I learned a lot from men like Speaker Bill Howell, and Delegates Kirk Cox, Steve Landes, and Rich Anderson. There were many others for whom I am thankful. Among the many lessons they taught, not falling in love with your own legislative bills is paramount. Why? Because many bills fail. Only those that are necessary prevail.
I am thankful that those careers have passed into the annals of my life, one now lived as an author of books and missives. I’m blessed that God has given me this outlet. It’s both a release and a reward, the former from the tensions of life, the latter in the satisfaction of a work accomplished. I have embraced the wisdom of English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton, who first noted, “The pen is mightier than the sword.” That is true as long as people can read, I suppose. But I digress.
I hope you will take time this Thanksgiving—maybe in a quiet place—to catalogue your many blessings. There are more of them than you may realize. And if you spend some time in prayer and contemplation, you will discover them. Among mine is to be thankful for my disappointments, as well as my many successes. Successes are fond memories. Disappointments are something we happily push aside. But that would be a mistake. It’s in disappointment that we learn the wisdom of life and reality. To fall down is to learn how to get up. To be rejected is a lesson in accepting. To be defeated is to learn how to win. Thank God for your disappointments. They are a blessing.
It’s a good thing to recount blessings at Thanksgiving. However, it might be presumptuous to expect those gathered around a sumptuous dinner table to await your eloquence detailing your enumerable blessings. They aren’t waiting. They have come for food and fellowship. That’s enough. Besides, sitting where you can see them all, arrayed pleasantly, happy, laughing, occasionally jousting, that’s a blessing enough. Count them. Smile quietly. Respond humbly. Love the moments. They are fleeting.
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