Well, folks, this is the beginning of our holidays. Diets fly out the window this week, and Santa soon flies in on a sleigh. The children become a little wilder these days, and parents are slightly more frazzled. Our busyness takes on another layer of hustle and bustle, and people either desire the hoopla to be over or wish for it to last longer.
You cannot give me enough of this time of year. Before July ends, I plan for the November and December days of cheer.
This week, many of us will gather around tables in homes across America. On Thanksgiving Thursday, some will host a crowd, others will entertain a few, and too many will be alone. However, no matter our circumstances, there isn’t one of us who can’t find something to be thankful for.
God is always at our table, and so are the memories. I remember my brother, at age 12, being thankful for only the mashed potatoes because turkey, green beans, and yams were not welcome on his plate. I recall how Mom fussed at Dad for sneaking into the kitchen to steal bites before dinner. I think of my grandmother, who couldn’t prepare enough food or wear too many aprons to do so.
These memories, like the warmth of a winter cloak, never fade.
As a child, I listened to the family’s tales and recalled the laughter around our Thanksgiving table. But it’s only now, 60 years later, that I truly appreciate the value of those old stories. They’ve become as precious as the mashed potatoes Mom perfected for my brother, a testament to the enduring power of cherished memories.
They and many who once were here during this joyful season now celebrate in Heaven while God still sits at my table. And that is the beauty of Thanksgiving.
Through all the trials and tribulations of life, the Lord never leaves, never wavers in His never-ending abundant love. It was God who gave me the strength to endure the loss of my family and the memory to keep them close forever. And God will take me home one day to share eternal life with them again.
This is the time to let go of anger, put aside politics, and instead focus on the many blessings in our lives. Let’s be more thankful for the family around us today and those who gave us the stories to carry on. Even when tears fall as we recall lost loved ones, we can be thankful for the time we had with them. If we are loved and we still love others, we are truly blessed. Gratitude mixed with love is the key to a fulfilling life.
My granddaughter is in college. Last year, she was required to write a short story about a meaningful and personal subject to her. She often sends her essays to me to review and edit any mistakes.
My heart leaped with her opening paragraphs when I began reading her narrative.
She began, “The refreshing cold air, the smell of pine, and the sounds of Christmas Carols are when my inner child returns.
The holidays are a cherished time in my family. Despite our scattered residences, we all converge at the table on Christmas night. The spread, featuring our signature beef tenderloin, various sides, and delectable desserts, is a feast we never miss, even if it means flying to Grandma’s house in Georgia.
My grandmother takes December 25 very seriously, and I inherited her holiday jolliness. She believes in the spirit of Christmas and will never admit Santa isn’t real. At 19, my gifts will still say ‘from Santa’ on the tags.”
Avery’s story continued, but I was excited to discover that she would carry the Christmas crown into the future. Like a torch passed from one generation to the next, she will continue the tradition of believing in the magic of Christmas, just as I did, and she will never tell her children there is no Santa.
This time of year is when memories are made, traditions are reinforced, and faith is renewed. It is a time to shed discord, stop the battles, and enjoy the cold air, the smell of pine, and the family surrounding you.
These days, we are reminded to be thankful and celebrate the Lord’s birth by spreading cheer and kindness, just as He did during His time on Earth. The holiday season should never end because it is in thankfulness and giving that we find peace.
So, let’s dust off our sadness, clean our hearts, and enjoy the inner kid buried in our souls, for it is God who gave us the child to help us do so.
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Lynn Walker Gendusa is a Georgia author and columnist. Her latest book, “Southern Comfort: Stories of Family, Friendship, Fiery Trials, and Faith,” is available on Amazon. She can be reached at www.lynngendusa.com. For more inspiring stories, click here.
