Thanksgiving: Tofu Turkey and Unexpected Blessings

A guest post by Dianne Dalton Gamblin.

Like little gifts, the memories swirl through my mind like falling leaves on a November day. Playing football on the lawn with the brothers, nieces, nephews, and the occasional stray neighbor kid. The clanging of the bells on the front door—announcing guests as they arrived, or warning of wild children who would soon be running loose through the house. Pies lined up on the back porch, cooling in the crisp air, and running our fingers through the filling for a quick taste!

Picture Thanksgiving 1985. I’m sitting at a table in the cafeteria at Loma Linda University Medical Center, where Doug is completing an internship. Thanksgiving dinner was free for employees, and at that point in our lives, free was always the winner.

Two-year-old Matt and I waited for Doug to arrive from the NICU, surveying the Thanksgiving options at the all-vegetarian facility with more amusement than hunger.

“What do you think, Matt?” I asked. “Would you prefer tofu turkey or tofu ham?”

He stared back at me, his brown eyes widening in disbelief—even though he had no idea what I was talking about.“Tofu?” he gasped, as he rearranged the chairs at our table. Again.

Doug finally strolled through the cafeteria doors, dashing in his hospital scrubs, somehow always looking taller than I remembered. Matt ran to him with absolute delight and was rewarded with a joyful toss into the air—though at the rate he was growing, he would soon be too big for such things.

We picked up our dinners and sat down together. Matt abandoned his mashed potatoes almost immediately and became fascinated by the conveyor belt carrying dirty trays to the back of the kitchen. Each tray disappeared as if being swallowed whole, and Matt could not have been more pleased.

He clapped with delight and began clearing tables.“I can take your tray!” he announced enthusiastically, and the doctors and nurses were happy to oblige. From table to conveyor he went, waving goodbye to the tofu turkey as it disappeared.

I looked up at Doug, who was watching his adorable son do adorable things. We had no idea of the catastrophic year ahead—my unexpected pregnancy, the debilitating brain hemorrhage that would follow. In that moment, none of it existed. We were simply there, together, experiencing the simple, exquisite joy of the present.

And I encourage you, our friends and family, to do the same.

Whether your Thanksgiving table is large or small, whether your life feels abundant or modest, find a moment to pause and reflect on the many gifts you enjoy. Then carry that joy forward into the holiday season.

Happy Thanksgiving.