I’ve got my list.
Hopefully I will not lose these.
One for shopping, one for to do’s.
I make one for the timing of everything.
Preparations for Thanksgiving.
It is really the only time I can honestly say I am organized.
My mom was such a planner.
Really.
Such a gift.
She planned class reunions and fundraisers.
She was PTA president for years.
If there was a Board or Committee- she was on it.
She had her bags for each Committee.
A list for each.
She thrived on these activities.
Details were her thing.
Her house was immaculate.
She never, that I know of, ran around looking for her keys or purse.
(that was my dad, not his purse. . . but wallet, keys, etc.)
Everything had its place; every place had its things.
Somehow that skill skipped me.
We look for my keys, purse, wallet (sometimes that doesn’t stay with my purse).
We look for papers and checks, laundry and shoes.
We constantly look for my list.
It’s crazy how much time we spend looking for things.
I don’t even know why I’m writing about this, except I woke this morning with that ache.
The ache of longing for my boy.
Aching for my parents.
Thanksgiving has always been a time when multiple phone calls were made on the Wednesday before the Big Day.
Dad and I would share recipes.
Even though neither of us needed to even look at the recipe.
Even when the memory thief threatened to steal him away, the recipes remained.
We would laugh and talk.
In later years my parents made the trek here to Vermont for this Holiday.
Oh, such fun memories!
Mom was always horrified by the condition of my home.
She repeatedly reminded me of that fact.
Her voice would raise and share how if I just took the time to put stuff away, I would be able to find it.
I have never seemed to be able to conquer that practice.
I usually run in the door from being late to something else.
Cold things get put away and the rest remain out on the counter.
In the process of walking in the door, I would set my purse down to tend to the cold items and poof, my purse disappears.
As I mentioned I am usually late to another event and there begins the spiral,
because when I put my purse down I would have placed the keys somewhere else as well.
Now, I am late for whatever pressing event is at hand.
(do you see the pattern?)
At some point keys and purse are found and the kids are brought where they need to be.
I eventually return home to attempt to put away the items left out and the phone will ring or someone will come to the door.
I will push aside the task, brew a pot of coffee and we will sit at the farmhouse table amidst the clutter and bear our hearts. . .
Until. . . (can you see what’s coming?)
my phone rings or I remember that I am late to pick up the kids from where I had deposited them earlier.
I can’t remember where my keys or purse are because I had walked in to the phone ringing or someone at the door.
And the cycle continues. . .
Mom would shake her head.
Dad and I would just cook.
We would make a mess.
Mom would fuss.
Memories made.
Thanksgiving dinner would always get cooked.
We’d push aside the clutter into other rooms.
We’d find tables from various places and create space for 25 or more people.
And my farmer would rise early and milk the cows and I would rise early and cook a turkey.
And somehow, in the chaos I wouldn’t lose my list.
Memories were made and I treasure them in my heart.
Both my parents are gone now, and my son, as well as my farmer’s parents and a nephew.
Holidays look so different.
I’ve spent 5 Thanksgivings without my mom and my son.
It is still hard and uncomfortable and not the plan I want.
But.
I can’t change it.
I can only change my perspective.
So.
I open my eyes to the wonder of the day.
My list is made.
The smell of coffee and the sound of music fill our home.
There is still clutter and piles.
Mom would be fussing.
Dad would be whistling the Muppets, Swedish chef song and I cherish these thoughts.
Your Holiday may be turning out less than stellar.
Maybe you’re grieving deeply.
Maybe this is your first holiday cooking for a crew and your cup runneth over.
Whatever journey you are on, may your heart be filled today.
May your list not be misplaced, may your food be scrumptious and may the love
that was poured out on Calvary bring you peace beyond your understanding.
Grace is a Kingdom. – Matthew West
