Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday. It’s often filled with heaping doses of good things like friends, family, and food. It’s the least commercialized of the major American holidays. And the theme, thankfulness, is one worth spending more than one day a year on.

(The lamest thing that I saw on the internet all day was someone who said that T’giving didn’t mean much to him because he lived every day in a spirit of thankfulness.  Give me a break.  We could all use an extra helping of gratitude.)

I’m thankful for my family.  For two kids that are wonderous in so many ways: healthy, clever, generous, loving, kind, and beautiful.  For their love for each other — more than I ever would have thought possible between a three year old and an eighteen month old.  For a wife who takes good care of them and of me and keeps us all on track.

So many other things to be thankful for, too: A job that provides both autonomy and security.  Friends across the miles and years.  A church family that nurtures and supports us.

I asked Charlie what he was thankful for today.  (They talked about it at preschool this week.)  He said, “My house, my toys, and the playground.  And books.”