The hand

On the Thanksgiving Day, a school teacher asked her class of first-graders to graw a picture of something they were thankful for. She would know how little these poor children actually had to be thankful for. She thought that most of them would draw pictures of turkeys or tables with food. However, the teacher was taken aback with the picture Douglas handed in a

simple childishly drawn hand.

But why and whose hand Douglas drew? The class was captivated by the abstract image.

“I think it must be the hand of God that bring us food,” said one child. “A famer,” said another, “because he grows the turkeys.”

Finally when the others were at work, the teacher bent over Douglas’ desk and asked whose hand it was. “It’s your hand, Teacher,” he mumbled.

She recalled that frequently at recess she had taken Douglas, a reserved lonely child, by the hand. She often did that with the children. But it meant so much to Douglas. Perhaps this was everyone’s Thanksgiving, not for the material things given to us but for the chance, in whatever small way, to give to others.


In helping others, we shall help ourselves, for whatever good we give out completes the circle and comes back to us.

Flora Edwards

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