As governor, when I visited our troops in Kuwait and Iraq, I

Jennifer Granholm once recalled with humility: “As governor, when I visited our troops in Kuwait and Iraq, I served them Thanksgiving dinner. It was a small gesture compared to their sacrifice.” These words shine with the light of gratitude and perspective. For they remind us that the deeds of leaders, however honorable, are but shadows compared to the immense burdens borne by those who stand in harm’s way for the safety of others. In her service of a meal, Granholm did not exalt herself, but lowered herself, becoming the servant of those who already gave beyond measure.

The origin of this saying rests in her time as governor of Michigan, when she traveled abroad to visit soldiers stationed far from home. While their families gathered around festive tables in America, these men and women stood guard in deserts of hardship. To serve Thanksgiving dinner was not to pretend equality of sacrifice, but to offer a small act of solidarity. It was a reminder to them that they were not forgotten, that even in a distant land, they remained part of the nation’s family.

History is filled with such moments of leaders humbling themselves before those they lead. In ancient Rome, there was the story of Emperor Hadrian, who ate simple rations alongside his soldiers during campaigns, sharing in their hardships to earn their respect. In the chronicles of World War II, we remember General Eisenhower visiting troops on the eve of D-Day, speaking to them not as a distant commander, but as one who bore their same mortal fears. Such gestures do not erase the difference between leader and soldier, but they honor it, acknowledging the greatness of those who carry the heaviest loads.

Granholm’s words also point us to the true spirit of Thanksgiving. It is not only a day of feasting, but of humility, of recognizing blessings, and of giving honor where honor is due. To place food upon the plate of another, especially one who sacrifices comfort and safety for your peace, is to embody gratitude in its purest form. Her gesture was not about the meal itself—it was about presence, about recognition, about the act of saying, “Your sacrifice is seen, and it is valued beyond measure.”

We may compare this to the story of Christ washing the feet of His disciples—a profound reversal of order, where the master became the servant, showing that true greatness lies in humility. Or to the tradition of kings who, on certain holy days, would serve the poor at their tables, understanding that leadership is not domination, but service. Granholm’s act follows in this lineage: a leader lowering herself to serve, as a reminder that no office, no title, absolves one from the duty of gratitude and service to others.

The lesson is clear: honor sacrifice with humility. No words, no gestures, no ceremonies can equal the blood, time, and life offered by those who serve others—whether soldiers in the field, workers in hardship, or families carrying unseen burdens. But though our gestures may be small, they matter when they come from sincerity. To serve, to thank, to bow in humility before those who give more than we ever could—this is the true way of honor.

So, O listener, let Granholm’s wisdom guide you. In your own life, look to those who labor unseen, who sacrifice in silence, who carry burdens you do not. Offer them gratitude, not in words alone, but in deeds: a meal prepared, a hand extended, a service freely given. For the greatness of a people is not measured by the power of its leaders, but by the humility with which it honors its servants. And when you sit at your own Thanksgiving table, remember those who cannot be there, and let your gratitude be expressed not in feasting alone, but in service, humility, and love.