Galen Harrill

A Story of Thanksgiving

Before I could read, my mom read to me almost every night.  We had a book of Bible stories, poems, and stories with spiritual themes throughout, and my favorite was the one with the boy at breakfast who thanked his mother for his nice brown roll.  The mother corrected him and told him he should thank the miller.  Well, the miller told him to thank the farmer, who told him to thank the rain, who told him to thank the sun.  The sun finally said, “Don’t thank me, thank God who made me.”

At the time, besides the picture of the smiling sun, I think I liked the mystery of it all.  Would we ever find out who was really responsible for the boy’s nice brown roll?  Even after I knew the story by heart, I still loved the sequencing, living through that little boy, running from one place to the next to give thanks to whom it was due until finally he got it right.  Pretty exciting for an almost four-year-old.

Today, I’ve heard a lot of people expressing gratitude.  Even in the car this morning a radio station thanked me for being a listener.  People on social media are posting what they are thankful for, and it’s lovely to see it all.  But the bottom line for all of us is the same as that of the little boy with his nice brown roll.  Whatever blessings we have, and they are myriad, they ultimately come from God.  Truly, from Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things.  Let’s not forget that this Thanksgiving.

OUR DAILY BREAD

A little boy’s mother gave him a brown roll for his breakfast. The little boy said, “Thank you, mother. Thank you for my nice brown roll.” The mother said, “Don’t thank me, thank the miller.”

The little boy ran to the miller. He said, “Thank you, miller. Thank you for my nice brown roll.” The miller said, “Don’t thank me, thank the farmer.”

The little boy ran to the farmer. He said, “Thank you, farmer. Thank you for my nice brown roll.” The farmer said, “Don’t thank me, thank the rain. I only planted the wheat.”

The little boy saw the clouds in the sky. He saw the raindrops falling. He said, “Thank you, rain. Thank you for my nice brown roll.” The rain said, “Don’t thank me, thank the sun. I only helped a little.”

Just then the sun began to shine. The little boy said, “Thank you, sun. Thank you for my nice brown roll.” The sun said, “Don’t thank me. Thank God who made me.”

The little boy went back to the table. He folded his hands. Then he said, “Thank you, God. Thank you for my nice brown roll.”

Taken from Bible Stories of Love and Care by the Standard Publishing Company, 1967.  By Carol Ferntheil.