Nine-year-old Charlie was asked to say the blessing for the Thanksgiving meal. Charlie was always the polite one of the boys. Billy was the mischievous one. Charlie began his prayer by thanking God for his family and his friends, naming them one by one. Then he began to pray for the food. He called every item by name: the green beans, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, corn, bread pudding, the apple sauce, dinner rolls, the pecan pie, and the chocolate cake.

Then he began to pray about the turkey. He prayed, “That turkey looks so juicy and good. Thank you, mom, for preparing it. Thanks for the car that brought the turkey home from the grocery store. And for the man at the market who bagged the groceries and put them in the car. And thanks for the meat department worker that put the turkey on the shelf, for the worker who took the turkey off the truck, the driver of the truck who brought the turkey from the meat packaging company, for the ones who cleaned the bird and wrapped it up, for the farmer who raised the turkey.”

Charlie paused. “Have I left anyone out?” he said to himself. By now, the whole family was wondering when his prayer would end. They were hungry and ready to eat.

Just then Billy, Charlie’s mischievous brother, blurted out sarcastically, “Well, you’ve thanked everyone but God!”

Without missing a beat, Charlie said, “I was getting to him.”

It seems that at Thanksgiving we thank everyone and so we should. We wish everyone a happy “Turkey Day.” We should thank the people that have contributed to our lives, we should consider our forefathers, and we should praise our family and friends. But let’s not forget God. He is the source of all blessings.

Someone once remarked that the worst of all possible moments for an atheist is to feel truly thankful and have no one there to thank. Most of us are not actual atheists, but sometimes we may be practical atheists. An actual atheist has no God to thank. A practical atheist has a God to thank, but never thinks of doing it. We never get around to God.

Thanksgiving became a national holiday at a time in American history when Americans were prone to see their rich country — and their good fortune to be born in it — as a direct gift from God. They spoke of the heritage of the Pilgrims who gathered after the first harvest to thank God for the bounty that was theirs. According to tradition, their good friends the Indians brought turkeys and venison and together they enjoyed a great feast in primitive Massachusetts.

Turkeys by the millions now die in November and pudgy Americans (at least 76% of us are overweight) will snore with the television remote control rocking on their stomachs, having fallen asleep watching the gridiron gods wrangle out their contests in noisy bowls of Astroturf. But who received thanks for the good life?