I would love four children because I have a very small family

In the heartfelt words of Chrissy Teigen, we find both a longing and a vision: “I would love four children because I have a very small family, so I want those big Thanksgiving dinners.” At first, this may sound like a lighthearted wish, yet it speaks to something much deeper—the eternal human desire for connection, for kinship, and for the warmth of a crowded table filled with laughter and life. Her words remind us that family is not only about survival or lineage, but about joy, togetherness, and the sacred rituals that bind generations.

The meaning of this reflection lies in the image of the Thanksgiving dinner. It is more than a meal; it is a symbol of abundance, belonging, and the gathering of hearts around a single table. To long for “big dinners” is to long for a life filled with voices, for the bustle of many souls who share the same bond of blood and love. In Teigen’s words, we hear the echo of an ancient truth: that the true wealth of life is not measured in gold, but in the number of chairs drawn close to the hearth.

History offers us many examples of this yearning. Consider the Roman familia, which was not just the nuclear household but the extended kin, clients, and dependents gathered under one roof. At feasts and festivals, the greatness of a Roman household was not in its possessions but in the number of its members, in the strength of its bonds. So too, in Teigen’s vision, the measure of joy is not in the solitude of luxury, but in the abundance of family gathered at the table, each voice adding to the chorus of love.

There is also humility in her words. To wish for children is not only to dream of love’s expansion but to accept the responsibility of nurturing life. The feast she imagines does not appear by magic—it is built by years of sacrifice, patience, and care. In this way, her wish reminds us that joy in the present is rooted in labor for the future. The overflowing Thanksgiving table is the fruit of countless unseen acts: feeding, teaching, comforting, and guiding. The abundance of the feast is born of the abundance of love.

Consider the story of Sarah Josepha Hale, who campaigned tirelessly for Thanksgiving to be recognized as a national holiday in the United States. She believed that the feast was not merely about food, but about unity—about drawing families together, north and south, rich and poor, across divides. Her persistence led President Abraham Lincoln to declare Thanksgiving a national day of gratitude in 1863, in the midst of the Civil War. Here we see the same truth Teigen intuits: that great feasts are not luxuries, but necessities of the soul, binding families and nations together.

The lesson for us is clear: long not only for success, but for togetherness. Strive not only for achievement, but for a life that gathers others around your table. For what is the point of wealth without laughter, or of houses without voices to fill them? True abundance is found in family, however we define it—whether through children, kin, or chosen companions who become as dear as blood.

Practical wisdom follows. If you have family, cherish them, and seek to gather often, not only on holidays but throughout the year. If your family is small, expand it through love, through friendship, through the welcoming of others into your circle. Do not measure your days by what you earn, but by the joy of who sits beside you. And if you dream of a larger table, as Chrissy Teigen does, know that the table is not built in a day—it is built in the choices of love, sacrifice, and generosity made every day.

Thus, in the simple vision of “big Thanksgiving dinners,” we see an eternal teaching: that life’s true richness lies in the gathering of many hearts around one fire. Let us, therefore, live not only for ourselves but for others, that our tables may be full, our homes warm, and our legacy one of love that echoes across generations.