This Thanksgiving, 36 members of my family – my children and grandchildren, a nephew and his wife, and an in-law still raw from the recent death of her husband – gathered in the kitchen and dining room of my daughter’s house. Following the mealtime blessing, we took turns expressing what we were thankful for, from the nephew who appreciated being included in the festivities to the 10-year-old who was grateful for the hat I’d given him earlier.

As this torch of gratitude passed from one person to the next, something happened to me. The room, the newly hewn and polished wooden top on the kitchen’s island table made by daughter’s husband, and all the faces in that rough circle took on a special light, which I can only think of as a holy glow. It was the radiance you see in some Renaissance r

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