The fire.
Coffee.
The Quiet.
The morning greets me well.
I breathe deep the peace in these moments.
For soon the farmhouse will come alive.
Breakfast for 7.
Preparations for Thanksgiving.
Much, much to be done.
This is the first Thanksgiving with out my dad.
In 2013 I spent my first Thanksgiving without my mom and my son.
Though the enemy of our souls would love to discourage and bring us down during a time of gratitude;
we will stand; on the promises given by the Giver of Life.
I have cherished memories of Thanksgiving at our Grandparents.
A table stretched the length of the room.
The day before full of preparations.
Cousins and relatives arriving.
Coffee jello-still do not carry on that tradition.
Many family members.
Singing.
Always singing at the end of a family event.
Rich, old hymns in harmony.
Much of our traditions have changed from those early memories.
Yet, those linger, creating the celebrations we share today.
I fight the urge to stay in bed.
To cave in to the grief and longing for what “used to be”.
I miss my mother and father in law and their presence in our lives.
I miss my son and his incredible appetite.
I miss the conversations with my dad over cooking the turkey and pies.
I miss hearing my mom’s voice.
In these later years they drove to spend Thanksgiving with us.
Such a sweet time.
I remember the last Thanksgiving they were here.
The memory thief had dug in deep.
My dad sat in the parlor much of the time looking out of the window.
I knew it would be the last Thanksgiving we would share here on the farm.
The following year mom would be so ill.
The year after that both mom and Elijah would have journeyed to meet Jesus and
he would further slip slowly into the clutches of the memory thief.
So this day before Thanksgiving as I prepare my lists.
I will not dwell on the pain and grief.
I will open that door to acknowledge the ache and the missing.
Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him,
so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
I will allow my heart to feel.
But I will turn to the living.
To how I can make this Thanksgiving about Jesus.
About the immense Love He has for us.
May this day be healing for you.
I am thankful for:
the chill in the house when I walk into the living room
a house full of children and guests
the oldest farm girl who is making her own traditions with those farmettes
memories of rich and full Thanksgivings
this season to purposefully walk in gratitude
food; aplenty
the gift of cooking
influences of many beautiful and strong women over the years
my dad who I watched cooking every year
family recipes- some we use and some we do not speak of
our farmhouse table
doors that will open wide to friends and family
life in Christ that give me hope to carry on
our community and the grace bestowed on us through our worst nightmare
eternity; where we will no longer grieve
