A new perspective is what I seek this Thanksgiving. Each year around this time, I slow down just a notch—not because life gets easier, but because Thanksgiving quietly, insistently asks us to pause and look backward, inward, and around.
This year, that pause feels more vital than ever.
When you peel away the noise—politics, headlines, arguments, blame—the thread that remains is profoundly human: survival, hardship, resilience, and the choice to come together anyway.
The very first Thanksgiving in 1621 wasn’t a perfect Hallmark moment.
It wasn’t polished.
It wasn’t planned for months.
And nobody debated stuffing recipes.
It was a group of people—Pilgrims and the Wampanoag—who had endured more than most of us can fathom. Nearly half the Pilgrims died that first winter. The Wampanoag faced disease, loss, and uncertainty. Yet for a brief moment in a world full of fear, these communities sat down together to share a harvest meal.
Not because life was easy.
Not because they agreed on everything.
But because coming together was the only way forward.
Fast-forward two centuries to 1863, one of the darkest chapters in American history. The country was divided. Communities were torn apart. Families were grieving, exhausted, and angry. And in the midst of that turmoil, Abraham Lincoln did something remarkable:
He declared a national day of Thanksgiving.
Not as a celebration of victory.
Not because times were peaceful.
But because a nation at odds needs a day to breathe. A day to reconnect with gratitude. A day to remember that—even in chaos—there are things worth holding on to.
And that brings me to today.
If you spend five minutes scrolling, you might think we’re living in the worst moment in political history. It feels personal. It feels heated. It feels like everything is at stake. But the truth is, every generation has felt that way.
The Founders argued so fiercely that they paused speaking for years.
Congress once fought on the House floor.
Andrew Jackson survived an assassination attempt by overpowering the attacker with his cane.
Lincoln faced anger and division that make our modern debates look tame.
Every era believes its moment is uniquely chaotic.
Yet history always whispers the same truth:
You’re just a mark in time.
And someone will pick up where you leave off.
That isn’t discouragement—it’s grounding.
So this Thanksgiving, whether you’re gathered with family or scrolling from afar, maybe we reclaim this holiday for what it’s always been:
A reset.
A reminder that gratitude isn’t naïve—it’s essential.
A chance to look around and see that in the long arc of history, we are merely passing through… and we choose how we show up while we’re here.
Here’s to lifting the weight off our shoulders, even for a day.
To listen a little more.
To remember that most people, deep down, want the same things: safety, belonging, purpose, and a place at the table.
Wishing you a Thanksgiving rich with perspective, connection, and a moment of quiet gratitude—wherever you are in the world.