A Thanksgiving Symphony: Pittsburgh, Prayers, and the Soundtrack of Gratitude
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania – Thanksgiving Day, 2025
Well now, here I sit in the Steel City, a Louisiana boy transplanted to Georgia clay, now finding himself in Steelers country with a full heart and a cup of coffee that’s still trying to figure out what sweet tea tastes like. Bob and Linda have opened their home to us this Thanksgiving, and I’m reminded that hospitality isn’t just a Southern thing – it’s a people of faith thing, a people of gratitude thing, a people who understand what matters thing.
The Long Road North
Debbie and I took the scenic route up here, as we always do. You can keep your interstates with their identical rest stops and chain restaurants that could be anywhere from Tallahassee to Topeka. Give me the two-lane roads through small towns where the hardware store’s been on Main Street since 1947, where folks still wave from their front porches, and where you can tell the quality of a community by how well they maintain their church steeples.
Something happens when you slow down enough to see the countryside roll by. The hills of Pennsylvania dressed in their late autumn finest, the farmhouses with smoke curling from chimneys, the small-town diners where the pie is homemade and the coffee pot never runs dry – it all reminds you that this country, this beautiful, complicated, wonderful country of ours, is still full of good people living good lives.
And you know what else I noticed? People are nice. Especially in these rural areas. They’ll hold a door, help you find what you’re looking for, strike up a conversation about nothing and everything. It’s almost like the further you get from the noise and hurry of the cities, the closer you get to what we’re supposed to be – neighbors, friends, fellow travelers on this journey we call life.
The Wisdom of the Wise King
My daily devotional this morning took me to the Book of Ecclesiastes and the Proverbs of King Solomon. Now there’s a fella who had everything – wealth, power, wisdom that folks traveled from distant lands to hear – and you know what he figured out? That all of it, every bit of the striving and accumulating and achieving, it all comes down to this: “Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind.”
Solomon, in all his God-given wisdom, understood something that we modern folks seem to forget in our hurry and worry: gratitude isn’t just good manners, it’s the foundation of a life well-lived. When you recognize that every good thing comes from above, when you acknowledge that you didn’t pull yourself up by your own bootstraps alone (no matter how much we like to think we did), when you understand that faith, family, friends, and yes, even the ability to enjoy a good bowl of gumbo – it’s all grace – well, that changes everything.
“To everything there is a season,” Solomon wrote, “and a time to every purpose under heaven.” This Thanksgiving 2025, I’m thinking our season, our time, our purpose is simply to be grateful.
The Blessing of Belonging
See, here’s what I’ve learned in my years on this earth: you can trace a straight line from faith to family to friends to community, and they’re all connected by the same thread – love. The kind of love that opens a home to traveling relatives. The kind of love that founded this nation with a deliberate intention that people of faith could practice that faith freely. The kind of love that made Terry Bradshaw not just a Louisiana quarterback who made good in Pittsburgh, but a bridge between my Pittsburgh bride and my Cajun family.
Oh, I haven’t mentioned that story yet, have I?
You see, marrying into a Cajun family isn’t like joining just any family. There are standards, expectations, and an unwritten code that outsiders must somehow prove they belong. But my Debbie, bless her heart, had an ace up her sleeve she didn’t even know about – Terry Bradshaw. That Louisiana boy who became a Pittsburgh legend was her golden ticket. When my Uncle Griff found out she was from Pittsburgh, Steelers country, home of his beloved Bradshaw, Franco Harris, and Frenchy Fuqua, well, that was it. She was in. Family approved. No questions asked.
Sometimes providence works in mysterious ways. Who knew that a quarterback’s Louisiana roots would pave the way for love across state lines?
The Soundtrack Plays On
Last night, we visited the Pittsburgh Banjo Club, and let me tell you something – John Lennon was right when he said, “Music is the soundtrack of our lives.” There we were, folks from different walks of life, different backgrounds, different stories, all brought together by the simple joy of making music.
I watched these good people, these musical friends, plucking and strumming, grinning and nodding to each other as they played, and I thought: This is what heaven must be like. Not some stuffy, serious place where you can’t laugh or enjoy yourself, but a place where different voices and instruments come together in harmony, where the joy is in the sharing, where the music never stops.
Music has this way of marking our memories, doesn’t it? Certain songs take me right back to that red-haired girl playing “Stranger on the Shore” on her clarinet. Others transport me to teenage nights when the radio played till dawn, just like that scene in “American Graffiti” that captured something true about what it meant to be young and full of dreams.
Mr. Holland had it right in that movie when he taught his students that music isn’t just notes on a page – it’s the expression of the human heart, it’s joy and sorrow and hope and memory all wrapped up in melody and rhythm. It’s one of God’s great gifts to us, a way to praise Him, to celebrate life, to connect with each other across all the things that might otherwise divide us.
The Gift That Gives All Other Gifts
But here’s the thing, friends – and I want you to hear this clear as a bell on a cold morning – none of it, none of it, would mean anything without faith.
Faith is the gift that makes all other gifts possible. It’s the foundation everything else is built on. Without faith, I wouldn’t have hope. Without hope, well… I don’t even want to think about that dark place. Without faith, Thanksgiving would just be a big meal. Without faith, family would just be people you happen to share DNA with. Without faith, this beautiful country founded by people who believed in something bigger than themselves would just be dirt and borders.
But with faith?
With faith, Thanksgiving becomes a holy act of recognition – recognizing God’s goodness, His provision, His unfailing love even when we don’t deserve it (especially when we don’t deserve it). With faith, family becomes a sacred trust, a little picture of God’s love for us, a training ground for grace and forgiveness and unconditional acceptance. With faith, friends become brothers and sisters on the journey, fellow pilgrims headed for the same home.
With faith, this country – founded by people who wanted the freedom to worship, to live according to their conscience, to raise their families in the fear and admonition of the Lord – becomes not just a place on a map but a promise, an ideal worth protecting, worth being grateful for, worth passing on to the next generation.
Gratitude’s Long List
So on this Thanksgiving Day 2025, here’s what I’m grateful for:
I’m grateful for my family and friends back in Louisiana, where my roots run deep as the bayou and my memories are seasoned with the taste of my mama’s gumbo.
I’m grateful for my Georgia home, that red clay that’s claimed me as its own, where I’ve built a life and found a church family and discovered that you can take the boy out of Louisiana but you’d better not try to take Louisiana out of the boy.
I’m grateful for Debbie, my wife, my partner, my Pittsburgh girl who passed the Cajun family test thanks to Terry Bradshaw and who’s stuck with me through thick and thin, gumbo and gravy, good times and hard times.
I’m grateful for my colleagues at Best Business Brokers, for clients and customers who’ve trusted us with their dreams and their life’s work, for the privilege of helping people move forward in their journeys.
I’m grateful for musical friends, for banjo clubs in Pittsburgh, for songs that mark our memories and melodies that lift our spirits and harmonies that remind us we’re better together than apart.
I’m grateful for Bob and Linda, opening their home to us this Thanksgiving, showing us that hospitality is alive and well in this world, that there are still people who understand what it means to share their table and their lives.
I’m grateful for the gift of Faith, given by God, unearned and undeserved, the fuel for hope, the anchor for the soul, the foundation for everything that matters.
I’m grateful for this country, founded by people of faith for people of faith, where I can write these words without fear, where I can worship freely, where I can pursue my dreams and raise my voice and live according to my conscience.
I’m grateful for the wise words of King Solomon, reminding us that there’s a time for everything, a season for every purpose, and that fearing God and keeping His commandments is our whole duty.
Most of all – and hear me clear on this – I’m grateful that God stuck by me when I didn’t deserve it, that His faithfulness never wavered even when mine did, that His grace is sufficient for every need, every failure, every broken place.
The Symphony Continues
As I sit here in Pittsburgh, watching the morning light paint the sky, hearing the sounds of Bob and Linda’s household stirring to life, smelling the coffee and the promise of a Thanksgiving feast to come, I’m reminded that life is indeed a symphony.
There are high notes and low notes, fast movements and slow movements, moments of harmony and moments of dissonance that eventually resolve into something beautiful. There are different instruments – some loud like trumpets, some soft like flutes, some steady like drums, some sweet like violins – all necessary, all playing their part in the grand composition.
And if we’re paying attention, if we’re living with gratitude instead of grumbling, with faith instead of fear, with hope instead of despair, we can hear it: the soundtrack of our lives, composed by the great Creator Himself, every note planned, every rest purposeful, every movement leading us toward home.
That’s what Thanksgiving is really about, isn’t it? It’s not just about the turkey and dressing (though Lord knows I’m looking forward to that). It’s not just about family gathered around a table (though that’s a mighty fine blessing). It’s not even just about living in the greatest country on God’s green earth (though that’s surely something to be grateful for).
It’s about recognizing that all of it – every bit of it – is grace. Unearned. Undeserved. Freely given by a God who loves us more than we can comprehend.
It’s about saying thank you. Not just with our words, but with our lives.
A Thanksgiving Prayer
So if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to close with a simple prayer:
Lord, thank You. Thank You for faith that fuels hope. Thank You for family that teaches us to love. Thank You for friends who walk beside us. Thank You for music that lifts our souls. Thank You for a country founded on the freedom to worship You. Thank You for the daily bread, the open doors, the warm welcomes. Thank You for Pittsburgh and Louisiana and Georgia and every place in between where Your people gather to give thanks. Most of all, thank You for sticking with us when we don’t deserve it, for loving us when we’re unlovable, for never giving up on us even when we give up on ourselves. May we live today and every day with grateful hearts, recognizing that every good and perfect gift comes from You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends. May your turkey be moist, your dressing be perfect, your pie be sweet, and your hearts be full of gratitude for the God who gives us all things to enjoy.
And remember – life is like a good bowl of gumbo; it’s better enjoyed with friends and family, but it’s the faith that gives it flavor.
From Pittsburgh with love and gratitude,
Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.
From my heart to your table,
Dean
P.S. If you’re one of them folks whose blood pressure spikes faster than a bull at the Angola rodeo when someone says “God” or “America” in the same sentence, I’ll repeat my old warning: just click on one of the other tabs. Go read about humor. Or old Facebook posts. The Sweet Tea Fainting Couch Brigade don’t need no more recruits today. The rest of us? We’ll be here, passin’ the cornbread and the peace, one thankful bite at a time.
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Dean Burnette – Serving stories with sweet tea and a side of truth
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