...When I was a wee lad, my maternal grandparents owned a small trailer court The tenants included singles, college students and several seniors. One older man in particular lived in his camper. Nice guy, and apparently did not have any family in the area. My Nan knew he was alone for Thanksgiving, as she had asked him previously about joining them. He declined, out of pride, I suspect. Before we ate, we made a large plate with all the trimmings and delivered it to him. No fanfare, no band of onlookers. Just a little boy knocking at this door, handing him a plate and saying "Happy Thanksgiving."

He was in the process of opening a can of beans, and took the plate with tears in his eyes. We left and went back to our dinner, and I can still see the look on his face, and I remember feeling then --much as I do now-- that I should not feel satisfied or self-important that we were able to assist someone less fortunate. No, we should feel ashamed that we have less fortunate in this country of plenty.

And when all of Christ's apostles were asking how they could demonstrate their love and devotion, Christ responded: That what you do for the least of my brothers and sisters, you do for me.