By Les Ferguson, Jr.

Columnist

 

“Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house we go; The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh, through (the) white and drifted snow!”

Lydia Maria Child wrote those words as a poem published in 1844. In the ensuing years, what was once only poetry about Thanksgiving became a song about Christmas.

Whether Thanksgiving or Christmas, it tells a 19th-century story about traveling to family for the holidays.

Like millions of traveling Americans at Thanksgiving, we took a short trip to Vicksburg, Mississippi. My sweet wife’s family, of which I am privileged to be a part, gathered to celebrate the day at the family farm.

It was a joyous gathering with folks as far away as Connecticut to the east and Texas and Utah to the west. And the kids? It won’t be long until all the nieces and nephews—cousins, too, outnumber the old folks. 

Then there was the food. Oh my. There were more casseroles than I can count. Of course, no Thanksgiving is complete without a green bean casserole, Turkey and dressing, ham and brisket, and gobs of different desserts. All were in attendance and joyfully consumed.

I showed admirable restraint, and for maybe the first Thanksgiving, I didn’t hurt myself by overeating! Aren’t you proud of me? Better yet, the scales showed a half a pound less the next day. It’s a pre-Christmas miracle. It may never happen again, but it did this time. 

While we were not oblivious to those who are no longer here, it was a good family day. I’m thankful there was no drama or trauma, at least while we were there. We saved that for the trip home. 

What happened? A big white bird or fowl of some kind. It happened like this: my wife drove my truck while I rode shotgun. It was dark, and we were somewhere just north of Canton, Mississippi, on I-55. We were making good time—if a highway patrolman reads this, I deliberately couldn’t see the speedometer. I was relaxed and reading on my phone when the windshield suddenly exploded, caved in by a collision with the big white bird mentioned above. I have no idea what kind of fowl it was, but I assure you, it was not a bird of paradise bringing joy and beauty.

We had glass, and lots of it. It was everywhere. This past Sunday after church, my foot hurt, and I found another piece of glass in my shoe. But even after all that, our good day could not be diminished. 

We came home over the weekend and finished decorating for Christmas. Here’s wishing to all the joy and peace of the Christmas season! 

“For a child will be born for us, a son will be given to us, and the government will be on his shoulders. He will be named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6 CSB17)