The Most Meaningful Thanksgiving Ever
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I was dreading the holidays. Nothing was going to feel right, everything was just…different. Monsoon season had only recently ended and my mood was as gray as those rainy days. Half a world away from extended family I was wallowing in self-pity—mourning all that I was missing: familiar faces, foods, traditions and comforts—when we received an invitation to journey a few hours through the deserts of Rajasthan to the home of some friends for Thanksgiving.
To be honest, up until that invitation my Thanksgiving tradition was to skip Thanksgiving altogether and just jump straight to decorating for Christmas. It was almost as if the holiday didn’t really exist, except as a day to string up Christmas lights and scatter angel and snowmen decorations on every available surface. I never really understood all the fuss—and I wasn’t a big fan of turkey.
As we tumbled out of our dusty SUV to an almost Norman Rockwell-type scene, it was clear our hostess had pulled out all the stops, but I had no idea she had created an experience that would shape my faith and the way I celebrated Thanksgiving forever.
Tables were laden with all the traditional fixings, which was no small feat. We lined up next to the beautiful buffet and started digging in to the miraculous bounty before us. But the magic wasn’t in the food (though it was delicious).
And the magic wasn’t in the meticulous decor. Though it was a lovely touch. No, the magic of that Thanksgiving was deeper than all of that. The magic was in the belly laughs coming from the impromptu game of football in an open field across the street. It was in the connections made around the table as fairly new friends began to feel like the oldest and dearest friends.
As the last rays of daylight slipped away, we all moved indoors and accepted another invitation from our gracious hosts. “We’d like to end our evening with each of us sharing something we’re grateful for,” they said.
A sense of reverence settled over the room as each person gave voice to the ways in which they’d seen God at work in the difficult moments of the past year, and the ways they were still expectantly waiting for him to reveal himself. And as the youngest among us started to share their thanks from innocent, pure and sincere hearts I was undone. Golden tears reflecting the candlelight, slipped down the cheeks of most everyone in the room. For those brilliant moments, I wasn’t thinking about all I was missing—but all that I had.
As each person shared, the moment became holy. Each thoughtful offering of thanks was like a prayer offered in the most tender and pure way. Thanksgiving is a holy endeavor. One that shapes us as we celebrate the holiday—and throughout the year. It wasn’t until that day in India that I realized how much I needed the anchor and practice of Thanksgiving. Now I’ll never skip it again.
Do you need to create more space for the holy work of Thanksgiving in your life and your holiday this year? What would that look like for you? How could you incorporate more of it into your daily life? One of the tools I love that helps me pause and put beautiful words and prayers to moments—both large and small—is Every Moment Holy by Douglas McKelvey. I wasn’t raised in a liturgical tradition, but the beauty of these words and prayers lift my soul in a way I never knew I was missing. The thoughtful readings invite me into a space that lets my faith breathe and slow down and savor each moment. You might find it does the same for you.
One of the things I’m grateful for this Thanksgiving season is the release of my new Holy Doubt Journal. Check it out if you, or someone you love, are in a season of doubt and looking for hope in the middle of it.
A Gift for You
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