This is the season that we usually take stock of what we're thankful for. I know we all have the usual things: our families, our homes, our spouses, our jobs. I never thought I'd be thanking God for my very life.
It all started innocently enough with a trip planned from eastern Oregon to Portland to spend time with my daughter for her birthday, which just happened to fall on Thanksgiving this year. The weather being what it was, it became a last minute decision to go with frequent log-ins to tripcheck to check on the latest road conditions. But it wasn't the white knuckle drive through the icy Columbia Gorge that had me thanking God for my life. It was something as mundane as attending the Christmas tree lighting at Pioneer Courthouse Square in downtown Portland.
Now, I'm not usually one for hordes of people, and this gathering was definitely a horde. It was estimated that there was somewhere in the neighborhood of 12,000 people there - families with their children in tow out to celebrate the beginning of the Christmas season. I've never attended the tree lighting festivities, even when I lived in Portland. I was always content to watch it on the evening news. Traffic jams and being jostled about by strangers is not my idea of a good time. But when I mentioned to a good friend I was going to be in town, she suggested that I join her and her husband for the event. I thought, why not? I'm not driving and it might actually put me in the holiday spirit.
The crowd was actually very well behaved, no pushing, no shoving. They lined the amphitheater like stadium of the square, bundled up in their coats and hats with green buttons, courtesy of Cricket, flickering throughout the crowd. The 75 foot tree loomed above the square waiting to be illuminated at the push of a button. Across from the tree was a stage for the symphony and a choir headlined by Pink Martini leading the crowd in carols. Children were gleeful, amazingly so, in spite of the cold winter's chill in the air. Many had multi-colored glow sticks in their hands in the shapes of batons and butterflies on sticks. Starbucks was doing a booming business with patrons lining the street in wait for a latte or hot chocolate. Another amazing point: it wasn't raining - in Portland - that is something worth remembering.
Everyone was anxious for 6:00 when the tree was supposed to burst into light. The program had begun; the master of ceremonies had spoken, the mayor was introduced, and then the newscasters spoke bearing the grim news that the lights wouldn't go on until 6:10. A groan went through the crowd. But that was the only negative I saw the entire evening.
Then,of course there's me, with my own negative thoughts, struggling not to think about the recent events in Cambodia where 300 people were trampled to death when a crowd began to stampede. I couldn't help but wonder what might set off a crowd like this one.
But the evening concluded with cheers of delight when the button was pushed and the tree was at last aglow. It was amazingly beautiful and here I was with 12,000 people, sharing this magical moment with me. One minute, we were as one, the next, we peeled off in singles, pairs and groups towards our own commitments with just this memory in common, this beautiful shared instant when we were one together in spirit.
It wasn't until the next day that I discovered that I'd been standing one short block away from "six 55-gallon drums containing inert material, inert detonation cord, inert blasting caps and approximately 1 gallon of diesel fuel...". The purpose had it been "real" was, according to the 19 year old responsible because, in his own words, "I want whoever is attending that event to leave, to leave either dead or injured." The blast was intended to level several city blocks. Had the FBI not been watching this young man, by all accounts, he would have succeeded in his plan to kill thousands of people. I suppose I could lapse into all sorts of political comments at this point. Certainly, the Sunday Oregonian was awash with controversy as to whether or not this Mohamud Osman Mohamud was "set up" by the FBI, but I'm not even going to go there.
My point is a simple one: I'm thankful. I'm thankful to God, to the FBI for keeping me and my fellow 12,000 new "friends" safe for that one glorious evening where we could come together and share in such a special time. Where we could put also our religious and political differences and celebrate the joy of the season. Thankful that a van load of explosives that was meant to destroy was thwarted and that love prevailed.
