Across Central Virginia, the traditions of Thanksgiving bring us

Abigail Spanberger, speaking as both a public servant and a daughter of her land, once said: “Across Central Virginia, the traditions of Thanksgiving bring us closer together with those we love. We gather with family and close friends, we share memories and laughter, and we give thanks for the profound blessing of living in the United States.” Her words are both simple and profound, drawing upon the heart of heritage, the strength of community, and the gratitude owed to a nation where such gatherings are possible.

At its core, the quote speaks to the unifying power of tradition. In an age that rushes forward, often casting aside what is old for what is new, Thanksgiving remains a ritual that binds generations. Whether in the humble farmhouse of rural Virginia or in the bustling cities beyond, the practice is the same: the table becomes an altar of remembrance. Food is shared, stories are retold, and laughter carries the memory of ancestors into the present. Through these rituals, families affirm that life’s deepest joy is found not in possessions but in togetherness.

Spanberger also emphasizes the blessing of place—specifically, of living in the United States. In her words, gratitude is tied not only to family and memory but to the gift of belonging to a land where freedom and community are cherished. To give thanks for a country is not to deny its imperfections, but to acknowledge the inheritance of liberty, abundance, and the ability to gather without fear. This gratitude transforms the holiday from a mere cultural custom into a civic act of reverence for the blessings of citizenship.

History itself supports this connection between Thanksgiving and nationhood. When Abraham Lincoln proclaimed Thanksgiving a national holiday in 1863, it was during the ravages of the Civil War. He called the nation, divided and weary, to pause and give thanks for what remained—the harvests, the endurance, the promise of peace yet to come. In doing so, he recognized that gratitude was not only personal but collective, binding families and states together in the midst of trial. Spanberger’s words echo that same spirit: to give thanks for family is also to give thanks for the land that sustains them.

Yet, at a deeper level, her words highlight the sacredness of memory. For it is in remembering that we find unity. To recall laughter shared in years past, to repeat the stories of grandparents, to sit at the same table where generations before us sat—this is to stand in the river of time, nourished by what has come before. Such memory guards against the loneliness of modern life, for it assures us that we are not isolated individuals but branches of a greater tree, deeply rooted in family, community, and nation.

The lesson here is one of gratitude expressed not only in words but in practice. Do not let the traditions of your household fade. Prepare the table, invite those you love, tell the old stories again, and laugh until tears flow. Give thanks not just for the feast but for the land that has allowed you to gather. And remember those who cannot share in such blessings—whether they are separated by distance, hardship, or sorrow—and find ways to extend your table outward in compassion.

Therefore, let Abigail Spanberger’s words be carried forward as wisdom for future generations: that the traditions of Thanksgiving are more than food and festivity. They are the very bonds that draw families together, strengthen communities, and remind us of the sacred gift of belonging to a nation. To cherish these moments is to live not only for ourselves but for those who came before and those who will come after. For in gratitude, the heart is enlarged, and in tradition, we find the strength to endure and to rejoice together.