On Thanksgiving Day, a teacher asked her class of first-graders to draw a picture of something they were thankful for. She thought that these children from poor families actually had little to be thankful for. And she found most of them drawing pictures of flowers or tables with food. The teacher was very surprised to see the picture Douglas handed in. It's a hand, a simple hand. But whose hand? The class were very interested in the strange picture. "I think it must be the hand of God that brings us food," said one child. "A farmer," said another, "because he grows beautiful flowers." Finally when the others were at work, the teacher went over Douglas' desk and asked whose hand it was. "It's your hand, Teacher," he said quietly and shyly. She remembered that she had often taken Douglas, a dirty lonely child, by the hand while having a class break. She often did that with the children. But it meant so much to Douglas. Perhaps this is everyone's thanksgiving, not for the material things we get, but for the chance, in whatever small way, to give to others. Whose hand did Douglas draw?
The farmer's. God's. The teacher's. His own hand.