Bacon was on sale last week, so I tossed a package into my grocery cart. I occasionally buy it when the price gets low enough, though since we have a large family it’s usually used to flavor split-pea soup. We rarely have the luxury of eating whole slices.
Yesterday, however, I was extravagant: I made bacon and eggs for breakfast. As I surveyed the sizzling pan, I thought idly about how extravagant God is with me, and how excited my kids would be to see bacon on their plates.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you for bacon.
It seemed silly and yet not enough, saying thank you for bacon. I decided to take it further.
Thank you for pigs, Lord. And thank you for salt.
I paused. There was more. Thank you for food that is good for pigs to eat. Thank you for farmers and veterinarians.
Suddenly I was on a roll. My mind clicked in on the hundreds of things that went into making bacon and getting it to my house and on a plate.
Thank you for truck drivers. Thank you for the grocery store clerk I bought this from. Thank you for stoves. Thank you for gas for cooking. Thank you for safe ways to get gas delivered.
My mind flitted through all that God had thought of that I hadn’t. I looked at the frying pan (ore, ways to extract it, the ability to turn it into metal) and the kitchen (electricity, heat, wiring, building contractors, appliance delivery men) and spattering grease (cool water—right in my house!—to soothe burns). It felt silly to go on and on, and yet it wasn’t.
Thanksgiving should be endless. Here’s hoping yours is rich, on many levels.
