This morning our school went to a nearby retirement center to perform our Thanksgiving assembly. Beforehand, I offered the scripture from Matthew 25:40 which says something like, Whatever you have done for the least of these, you have done for me. Yet, I mainly said that to calm the nerves of the children, as being in front of a whole room full of old people staring blankly with mouths agape is often unsettling. I knew that what we were doing was good to do, but I didn't really have any great expectations.

We forgot our flags, so we skipped the pledge of allegiance, and I gave a short prayer before beginning. I thanked the residents for inviting us into their home, while I realized as I was saying it, that they didn't invite us at all, the activities coordinator agreed to have us come and was probably relieved that she wouldn't have to do any other activity for that day. So you see, cynicism had crept in uninvited.

However, as the 7th and 8th graders recited the Declaration of Independence, something inside reminded me that some of the audience had probably had to memorize that at some point in their lives. One of those people may have been a war hero, one that pledge his life to another, and to our country. The realization that perhaps what was being said was stirring memories, sparking life into those old brain cells, and awakening a lively spirit within.

I began to see each of our offerings: Psalm 100, Over the River and Through the Woods, Grandma's Feather Bed, and even A Turkey Sat on the Backyard Fence, through another lens. I saw that it was a gift for Jesus, just as I had told the students. That whether or not the residents could smile and acknowledge our presence, this assembly was touching them. After the assembly I always invite the students to go greet the residents and wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I heard about the responses when we returned to school. Two of our littlest Junior Primary students went and held the hand of one lady who looked up with tears in her eyes and said, "I have two hands! I am holding two hands!" Another said, "I have to leave now... I am going to cry."

We then went down the hall and went downstairs to do it again for those living downstairs. I almost wanted to just skip that one, but we went. There, one man sat right up front; he had scars on his face, and he couldn't hold his head quite erect. But as the children sang, he lit up. He smiled and clapped along on some of the songs. Another lady greeted me Good Morning as we began. The children told me that a couple of ladies that were apparantly asleep, woke up and one raised her hands as we sang Grandma's Feather Bed. As we left, one of the residents came to me and said, "I really want to thank you for coming. This year I can't go where I usually do, and I was feeling so sad. Then you came, and it made my Thanksgiving. It is like an answered prayer!" She thanked me again and said, "Really, you have given me a wonderful gift. Please come again soon."

Cynicism washed away, a deep joy filled me. I felt peaceful... whether we had sung each song perfectly didn't matter. That we showed up mattered. That we cared mattered. That each child had a smile for an old person mattered.

I hope that this Thanksgiving with family can be just as centered on what matters.