What It Can Look Like

Raise your hand if your Thanksgiving turned out just as you planned.

If your hand is raised, I’m seriously so happy for you.

Ours did not.

Family would arrive from near and far, everyone showing up and departing on their own schedules. At least that was the plan. But then shit started to happen. A plane was delayed. A toilet overflowed. A toddler took a tumble out of her crib and landed on her noggin. And then, on Friday morning, one of our gang woke up with a fever and a nasty cough.

We moved him into the back bedroom so that he could rest, and donned our masks in an attempt for the rest of us to dodge whichever viral bullet had hit him squarely in the chest.

In the end, because being sick at home is so much better than being sick anywhere else, everybody packed up their bags and headed down the road before any potential symptoms might begin showing up.

As life would have it, as of this writing, two more are down for the count.

Oops, another text just arrived. Make that three.

We were all disappointed, because the best part of getting together is, well, getting together. We’d had a different plan than the one that unfolded: Walks in the wild life refuge, hide-and-seek, an epic Charcuterie Board and Old Fashioned cocktails, time curled up on the couches in front of the fire, swapping stories, and sharing a few more days of the magic and the mess that is family.

But here’s the thing. While it may not have turned out as we’d planned, it turned into something else. It was an invitation to figure out, together, what to do with what we’d been handed. And we did.

This is what that can look like…

About Face

Life becomes a matter of showing up and saying yes.

~ Richard Rohr

Two days after Thanksgiving I was up early before most of the others tucked into every nook and cranny of our home were awake. Throwing on my coat and boots I headed out into the cold and still dark morning because Gracie-the-chocolate labradoodle needed to go outside. Truthfully, I needed to go ousidet too. Every day for the past couple of weeks seemed to have required everything I had to give, the day that lay before me did too, and frankly, I wasn’t sure that I was up to the task. Not, at least, as the kind of person I like to bring to the party on any given day. I was tired and spent, and when I get like that grace, joy, and gratitude aren’t my forte’.

Standing out facing the pines, the house behind me, I waited for the dog to take care of her morning business, pondering the day ahead. I dreaded it, unable to imagine anything other than making it through. I wanted to turn my back on the day and pretend it wasn’t waiting for me when I walked back inside.

And then In the morning stillness, these words rose up:

How you go back into the house will determine the kind of day you have.

In that moment I knew that it was up to me. I could show up and say ‘yes’ to the day before me or not. It was my choice. It’s always my choice. A truth that is rarely convenient is that we have far more choice over who we want to be in any given moment than we give ourselves credit for.

Turning around to face the house, and the day before me, I headed back inside.

It was a good day.

A Holiday Permission Slip

This Thanksgiving was one for the books.

We weathered tag-team illness, a midnight trip to the ER, free range grandkids and grand-dogs, emotional highs, lows and everything in between, more people than beds, and, and a Thanksgiving unlike anything we had planned. Perhaps the description that comes the closest is from Tom’s prayer of gratitude for the “Glorious Confusion”. It was all that and a bag of chips. As challenging as it was at times, we all hung together, and loved the Thanksgiving stuffing out of each other.

However, opening my eyes at the end of the weekend in the early morning darkness, it dawned on me that another holiday is just around the corner. In that moment all I wanted to do was hunker down deeper into the covers and wake up after Christmas. The more I thought about it and all the expectations that come with the season, the harder it was to breathe. That was, until this morning, when my sister’s text arrived on my phone.

’I’m giving myself permission to not care about Christmas for the time being.

Reading her words, a tiny bit of space opened up inside and I began to feel like I could catch my breath. Remember when your parents wrote you a permission slip to miss school? What if we all wrote out permission slips to skip the kind of holiday we think we should have, and give ourselves permission to have the one that we could have?

Photo by Kaboompics .com from Pexels

A No-Nonsense Thanksgiving

nonsense: words that have no meaning or make no sense

When it comes to describing our Thanksgiving this year, the words that have no meaning or make no sense are words like perfect, elegant, formal, fancy, flawless, tidy, or impressive. No one who will gather around our table has the capacity to pull off any of those words. Collectively we are worn out, adjusting to big changes, loving, raising and growing little humans, moving into new homes, having real conversations about real things, holding one another accountable for and loving each other in spite of ”our stuff”. It simply feels like life is as real as real can get.

When it comes to our Thanksgiving this year, the only words that make any sense are words like messy, simple, casual, imperfect, crazy, loud, emotional, and authentic. Thankfully we are finding ways to make sure that it is well-seasoned with ample amounts of love, grace, and laughter, because if we are hungry for nothing else, we are hungry for those.

I guess you could call it a No-Nonsense Thanksgiving, which might just be the very best kind.

Giving Up On Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving there are so many moving parts that it is impossible to nail down an exact plan.

Who’s coming when? We tried to come up with an exact schedule, and then gave up.

Will there be enough beds for everyone? We tried to come up with an exact schematic, and then gave up.

Enough cribs for the littles? We tried to figure it out exactly, and then gave up.

How many people to plan on for dinner? We tried to come up with an exact count, and then gave up.

All we know is that people we love will show up when they can, everyone will have some sort of place to lay their head, babies will be tucked in at night, and there will be plenty of food for everyone. Because we’ve given up on having it be exactly as we want it, we are free to give thanks that it is turning out exactly as it is.

Which might just be exactly the best way to do it.