(This is my story from last year. You’ll have to catch the next post to hear how my God topped Himself.)
If you had told me last week that all our children would be home over Thanksgiving, I would have said, No, not this year. But that’s ok; we’ll see them at Christmas.
That’s just the reality of this season of life. One is getting married next month. She has another side of the family to consider. A second daughter is on tour with a ministry. Even for the ones still at home, making the stars align seems easier than synchronizing schedules sometimes. Launching children into adulthood is exhilarating.
And there’d be no hint of sadness if I didn’t happen to like them so much.
I don’t think I’ve ever spent Thanksgiving alone. In college days, someone graciously took me in. In young adult days, if I couldn’t be with my family, I made whatever space I lived in the gathering place. As soon as I did, people seemed to come out of the woodwork to admit they had no plans and would love to join us. Watering someone else’s need for connection is a great strategy for meeting your own.
This Thanksgiving wouldn’t be lonely either. Just a smaller group. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We savored both the food and the treasure of living in town with extended family.
Then the God of Unexpected Gifts began to align the stars on my behalf.
One daughter’s visit to attend to wedding details received bonus time when her work schedule changed. And an out-of-state ministry tour would be passing close enough for us to snag another daughter overnight.
For 11 hours on Thanksgiving weekend, which had to include a night’s sleep, my husband and I would have all five of our chickadees under one roof.
Of course, no one got a full eight hours of sleep. And when I finally drifted off, I could still hear giggling and chatter through the wall.
When morning came, Ross set to work on father’s famous flapjacks while I fried bacon and eggs. I pulled out the china and cloth napkins and freshened up the wedding reception centerpiece we had brainstormed on yesterday.
The seven of us feasted around a beautiful table. I really tried to keep my eyes from dripping when I expressed thanks for God’s kindness in creating this moment. But I didn’t cry alone. We had all tasted His goodness.
After we prayed around the table for the person next to us, it was time to re-launch into the world, with no guarantees of another moment like this one.
No guarantees of a moment. But something better—an experience of awe that my God orchestrates stars and schedules with intricate precision. He knows what would bring me joy even without my asking. And He is willing to execute such a joy plan because He actually sees and loves me.
Thanksgiving pancakes will remind me of it every time.