A mother of three picks up her children at daycare, then heads home for another night without daddy. She resists the urge to grab a bucket of chicken instead of making supper for the hungry bunch. After a quick meal of tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches, she wearily works her way through bath time, bedtime, and a load of laundry, before collapsing into bed thankful that she’s too tired to cry from the loneliness that’s been haunting her all day. He’ll still be gone over Thanksgiving. They’ll spend the day drawing pictures for him and maybe even make a video of them eating their turkey. She mumbles a prayer of safety for the soldier who stole her heart seven years ago and drops off into blissful sleep…

He stares out into the darkness. The lone street lamp casts a golden glow into the night. There’s a lump in his throat as he chokes back the tears. He’d gone to see her again today. She looked so small and vulnerable in that wheelchair, the afghan tucked in snugly around her knees. Yes, they took good care of her there at the nursing home, better than he could do, but oh, how it hurt to know that she no longer had the memories of days gone by. She couldn’t remember their children’s faces, this little house where they’d raised their family or even that warm June afternoon back in ‘48 when she’d held a bouquet of red roses and promised to love him for better or for worse. Fact is, she no longer knew who he was. He could remember every Thanksgiving they had spent together, her bustling around the warm kitchen making dinner rolls and sweet potato casserole while he carved the turkey and tried to stay out of her way. He chuckled at the memories, then sighed as he looked at her empty recliner. She’d never sit there again. He’d eat a Thanksgiving meal with her in the cafeteria of Sunset Hills, but when the meal was cleared away, he’d be going home without her…

It’s going to be her first Thanksgiving without him. She runs her hand over the back of his chair and remembers. Can it really be a year since he…? She shakes her head, trying to stop the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. How many gallons had she cried since that dreadful night? A mother shouldn’t have to endure the pain of losing a child, yet the empty chair served to remind her that sometimes life doesn’t seem fair. Last year, the kids had all come home for Thanksgiving. She could still hear the laughter, see the snow falling outside, and feel the warmth of an overflowing house. How she wished she could go back to that night and warn him. She’d hug him tight and beg him not to touch another drink. Instead, she had been clearing the table when he’d told her good-bye. “See ya tomorrow,” she’d called never guessing that he she’d be facing tomorrow without him - never guessing that next Thanksgiving, his chair would be empty.

I don’t know these people, but their stories cause me to stop and look at the blessings I have today. We as Americans are most blessed, yet can be so ungrateful. We complain about the weather and the gas prices, yet we forget what’s most important.

This year, there will be two empty chairs at our family Thanksgiving. My grandparent’s died last winter, just four months apart. While they will never be here to celebrate Thanksgiving with us again, the memories I have of them will warm my heart.

So today I challenge you to cherish the ones around your table. Reach out to those around you. Recognize how truly blessed we are. And give thanks.

I think God is a Cubs fan.

Even if He isn’t, I am sure He can understand why I am.

I grew up in a family of sports nuts! My three brothers didn’t see any value in playing dolls with me when we were little, so I learned early the meaning of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”, and in the process have become a die-hard Cubs fan. Baseball is easy for me to understand, while football confuses me like nothing else on earth. I must admit, though, that whoever came up with the computerized line in football for us television viewers is one of my heroes! It has made my life much easier!

I was reminded of how dependant I had become on that yellow line several years ago when Tim and I went with my family to Kalamazoo to watch Western Michigan take on my brother Matt’s alma mater, Central Michigan. Less than a minute into the game, I realized that I had become so dependant on that line at home, that this was going to be the longest four hours of my life. At that moment, giving birth sounded more appealing than sitting in the cold watching a bunch of guys run around for no rhyme or reason. While I impatiently waited for the minutes to crawl by, I studied the ads along the sideline walls, watched the cheerleaders, bought a Pepsi, counted the amount of players on each team, and decided who’s colors I liked best - neither really appealed to me (sorry Matt!). Hence, I stick with baseball.

One of the greatest things about sports, no matter which you prefer, is the hope that you get to hang on to until the game is over. I think that is what makes sports so appealing to people. It takes our minds off of the problems we are facing, the trials that seem so hopeless, and gives us a few blessed hours to hope!

Being a Cubs fan is easy. It requires so little to be a fan. All it takes is my praise and adoration to be one. It gives me something to think about and a reason to hope. Take a couple of weeks ago for example, it’s the bottom of the ninth, two outs, nobody on base and we’re down by four. Ahh.. But we have hope! We’ve seen our Cubbies come back before and we know they can do it! Few fans can be seen leaving the Friendly Confines. We have Soriano… we have Ramirez… we have Sweet Lou… we have hope!

Hope is a wonderful feeling. It fills us with the anticipation for something good, and keeps our thoughts focused on that desire. Hope shifts our attention off of the problems around us. Funny how the sound of leaves crunching under our feet, that lucky Cubs sweatshirt and brats on the grill get us excited about the big game. A welcome reprieve from the sorrow that comes in life - sickness, financial difficulties, broken promises and broken hearts. For that brief period, we can put our focus on something else. We load up our brat with jalapenos and mustard, grab a couple of buffalo wings and a Pepsi and settle in to cheer on our favorite team. We yell, we cheer, we groan, we holler, we dance… we dig out the Tums.

But then, the game is over, the players go home, the TV is turned off, and life is still… life. Nothing’s changed. The bills are still laying on the desk, waiting to be paid, family issues are still there, waiting to be resolved. The hopelessness of life didn’t change while the Cubs were clinching their division.

So now what?

What can we place our hope on next, cause we sure don’t want that black cloud of gloom hanging over our heads. Hopelessness is no fun. And believe me, I’ve been there.

But I have to tell you that I have found a reason to hope.

It’s my relationship with God. I’ve found that being His fan is just as easy as being a Cubs fan. All it takes is my praise and adoration - to simply tell Him that I believe in Him.

I tell Him how awesome I think He is when I watch the sun set at night, and He fills me with peace.

I thank Him for my family and He fills me with love.

I rest in the knowledge that He knows about the problems I am facing - that He can see my hurts, my frustrations, my broken heart, - and He fills me with hope. It’s a hope that doesn’t make sense when everything around me is falling apart, but it’s welcoming, it’s alive and it’s real.

This hope can be yours. You have nothing to lose. I invite you to ask God to help you find the hope that only He can give. The hope that stays - even between the final game of the World Series and Opening Day at Wrigley.