On Thanksgiving morning we were humbled by a family from Italy, three young girls, a father, and a mother with one more baby on the way. We were on a tight schedule and our morning was going as so. In fact, I don't think I have ever seen my husband so regimented about the time. We were off to breakfast, then a town over to visit a friend, then back home again, only to scurry off to my mother's for the rest of the day. Well...the breakfast place we intended to go was closed, we were 30 minutes behind, tension was rising, and then my husband missed the turn at our alternative destination, forcing us to go into a parking lot we would have never gone into, and well…our God works in mysterious ways, or maybe they aren't so mysterious. Here was a beautiful family, all together, standing on the side of the curb, asking for help. Immigrants from Italy, the father out of work, the mother expecting, and three young daughters. My heart broke for this family. Though late, it didn't matter anymore. People are what matter, not the places we are "suppose" to be. We did what we could to help.  The details of that aren't what matter, but rather the reminder to *really* look at ALL we have, to be thankful not one day of the year, but every day. I am thankful for this family. They were placed in our lives for mere moments, but I know I will not forget them. I only hope I will see them again, though I know it is unlikely. I would love nothing more but to hear more of their story, to share a part of our lives with theirs. I am thankful for family, for friends, for food and provision, but most of all for reminders like this one.

To Patricia and her family, thank you.

Bugs first Thanksgiving.