Growing up, Thanksgiving meant food, family and attending the Tech-Georgia freshman football game. Now Thanksgiving occurs daily.
That began when my mother pressed me to read the Bible, pray and go to church – all of which I ignored. One day, she slipped me a cassette tape, which I buried in my glove compartment.
Years later, bored, driving in the mountains out of radio range, I found the tape – a sermon by Charles Stanley on Philippians 4:6 on how to pray. It made sense. I tried it. It changed my life. I’ve been thanking God (and Mom) ever since.