A New Life in Christ
It was the week of Thanksgiving and soon it would be Christmas once again. Denice and I were busy serving God. I had been home for two years after serving four years overseas in the military, and it had now been two years since I surrendered my life to Christ. That moment turned my whole world around. Everything was different—how I thought, how I viewed life and people, how I processed events, experiences, challenges, feelings, and emotions.
Nothing in my life was the same, and I was still learning how to be the new Steve Vickers I was becoming. I had spent the first twenty-four years of my life with a completely different view of, well…everything. I knew how to live that life, but this one was brand new—and it was wonderful.
Two things stood out above all else: an abiding sense of peace and a consuming hunger for God. From the moment I was saved, I devoured His Word. I stayed up until the early morning hours reading it, only to rise for work at seven. I even carried my Gideon New Testament to read during breaks. Knowing God became my passion—and telling others about Him my joy.
Denice and I both worked hard. I was a full-time student while working 40 hours a week on the night shift, and she worked as a dental assistant. We earned just enough to pay the bills and survive. Money was never our focus; God and our precious little girl, Stacy Elaine, were. Stacy was two years old—a bright-eyed doll who brought joy to our every day.
In rare moments of free time, we would head to Indian Rocks Beach or one of the lakes around Lakeland, Florida, where we lived. We built sandcastles, splashed in the water, and savored those simple joys as a family.
The Thanksgiving Dilemma
Now Thanksgiving was approaching, and we had no money for a turkey and all the trimmings. Denice, ever hopeful, asked what we would do for dinner. I had no answer but felt the weight of it. She met the disappointment the way she always has—with faith, hope, and trust in Jesus.
Then I saw an ad in the paper: a Thanksgiving dinner at a local restaurant for five dollars a plate, and kids under five ate free. Ten dollars total—I had just enough. That night at work, I asked around. My coworkers laughed. “That’s the Ptomaine Palace, the Greasy Spoon Café. Only bums and street people eat there.” I brushed it off, but inside I wondered if this was really the answer.
On Thanksgiving morning, Denice asked again about our plans. Without thinking, I answered, “We’re going to a nice restaurant downtown.” My fate was sealed. Calls to other restaurants confirmed they were all booked solid. It would be the Greasy Spoon for us.
Driving downtown, I wrestled with doubt while Denice and Stacy glowed with excitement. As we approached the old building with street people resting outside, I looked at my beautiful wife pushing Stacy’s stroller, her long black hair tumbling perfectly over her shoulders, and my heart swelled with love and gratitude.
Inside, the place was dated, frozen in the 1940s, but we were welcomed warmly. Ten dollars at the counter, and we were seated. The meal was simple: two slices of sandwich turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, green beans, and sweet tea. Not much, but it was ours.
The Feast of Gratitude
We clasped hands and prayed, thanking God for His unending goodness. As I spoke, a deep sense of gratitude overwhelmed me. Gratitude not for the size of the meal but for the grace that filled our lives. In that moment, I wanted to stand and shout, “God is good!”
To our delight, the meal ended with pumpkin pie, and for us, it was perfect. It was small compared to others, but it was a feast—the Vickers Family Feast.
I’ve learned that being grateful for what you do have—no matter how little—is the key to living with a grateful heart. Those who can’t appreciate the small things will never truly be thankful for the big things, even if they come.
That day we feasted as a redeemed family. Our marriage was restored, my soul saved and set free, our future resting completely in God’s hands. We had nothing in material terms, but we owed no one anything except love. God was our provider and sustainer.
As I drove us home, I looked at Denice beside me and Stacy asleep in the back. A deep sense of completeness filled me. It was Thanksgiving, and my heart was full.