Thanksgiving 2005

As I was baking a brown sugar cake this morning for our Thanksgiving festivities, the phone rang. It was a dear friend calling to tell me how she was thanking God for me today. That was such a special beginning to the day.

The excitement in the air as we got ready to go was contagious. The girls helped wrap gifts and write names on them, DH and I gathered food and coats, and we all headed for my parents' house, singing "Great is Thy Faithfulness" as we drove.


It's tradition in my family to give gifts at Thanksgiving instead of at Christmas time. My parents (and my dad's parents before him) don't celebrate Christmas, so the Thanksgiving gift-giving started out as a compromise with my mom's parents. Over the years it's become a beautiful time of reflecting on God's gifts to us and how thankful we are for each of our loved ones as we pick out or make a gift for them. We keep the gifts simple and few, but we enjoy them.

This year, DH took the girls shopping and let them pick out a small gift especially for each person. They had a wonderful time picking them out, and their gifts were amazingly thoughtful and appropriate. The girls loved wrapping their little gifts, writing everyone's names on them, and handing them out.



Interestingly enough, AJ demonstrated her proficiency in writing not only the normal way, but also in a perfect mirror image. Later in the day she did quite a bit of reading aloud, with the book both right-side-up and upside-down. I suspect she'll be amazingly good at geometry and spatial reasoning as she gets older. Either that or she's got some weird dyslexic thing going on--I'm not sure which.

We did, of course, have the requisite huge meal, which included the following: turkey, roast beef (from my grandparents' cow), green salad, broccoli walnut salad, cranberry sauce, red potatoes, pan gravy, stuffing, rice, homemade rolls (two kinds), baby carrots, sweet corn, lemonade, tea/coffee, pies (lemon, apple and pumpkin), and the brown sugar cake.

Before we ate, we joined hands and sang "Thank You Lord" and then prayed. Eleven faces glowed and eyes misted as our voices blended in praise.

For some reason, this year the day seemed almost unbearably poignant. I was deeply aware of the treasure of spending time with my husband and children, parents, sisters and my only remaining grandparents. It all seemed so very precious and fragile.

I looked at my mother's beautiful bright blue eyes and laughing face, and was struck by the contrast between now and this time 5 years ago. At that time it seemed she might not be with us much longer. Because of the choice a family made to share their daughter's life through organ donation that year, one family's tragedy gave birth to new life and health for my mother and others. Watching her enjoy her grandchildren and seeing her energy and joy has a special depth remembering how weak, pale and discouraged she once was.

My strong, unbending grandfather is getting feeble; he now walks with a cane and has difficulty standing, walking, and especially rising from his chair. He sat on the sofa for most of the evening, missing much of the conversation because of his increasing deafness. But Baby E smiled and babbled at him, and his face lit up in response. He talked to and grinned at her and, for the moment, forgot his pain in the joy of her smile.

There are so many little vignettes lingering in my mind . . .

My sisters reading books with the girls. Mom listening with absorption as they told her about the Nemo show. Dad blowing on the baby's tummy and laughing with her. Amy's excitement as she handed out autographed copies of the book with two of her stories published in it. Sis's tired smile as she relaxed and enjoyed being home again, and her delight in holding the baby.

The family laughing together, complimenting cooking and sharing stories. The ripping of wrapping paper, delighted exclamations, thank-yous and hugs. The talking about friends and family and how blessed we all are. The exchanged glances and chuckles as we shared an inside joke, wondering if my combination of nausea, heartburn, ravenous hunger and a missed period could mean anything other than just having had a baby and a stomach virus.

Grandma's surprised smile as she turned to the flyleaf of the out-of-print book I tracked down for her and saw the author's signature there. Her eager interest in my parents' description of a world cruise they had heard about. Her careful fingers stretching the yarn as we tried on the booties and hood she'd knitted for Baby E.

Grandpa's chuckle at a joke someone told. His solid determination not to set foot on a boat, plane, train or any other mode of long-distance transportation. The way he smiled at the girls and hugged us all. His enjoyment of the family even though he's not technically a blood relative (he became my mom's stepdad in her young adulthood).

DH's quips at the dinner table: "Now comes the part where the men say how good the food is while the women say how they messed it up," and his stubborn refusal to be caught by a camera. His tenderness with the kids, and his willingness to work on everyone's computers during the holiday celebration.

The jokes, competition and laughter as we played cards. Baby E looking for all the world like Aunt J was teaching her how to play. AJ and MM contentedly reading books and watching the game. Eating leftover turkey again for supper. Baby E fighting sleep and fooling Daddy into thinking she was resting (she was really leaning on his shoulder laughing silently at Aunt Amy). Finally seeing her nod off in Grandma's arms.

The personable comfort as we all enjoyed just relaxing together; family, with nobody to impress and no pretenses to make. Amy and I enjoying the prospect of writing about the day on our blogs (read her version here). Sis going upstairs to bed, as Mom encouraged her to sleep in the next morning to catch up on jet lag. Dad and DH discussing basketball and property values. The hugs hello and goodbye.

How I wish I could catch the golden moments in my hands and keep them. I'd like to bottle them somehow to bring out the glow, the laughter, the joy again on other days. But they slip through my fingers like rays of sunshine. Though I can't hold these moments, the brightness and warmth lingers long after they're gone.

Thank you, God, for a wonderful Thanksgiving Day.