It never ceases to surprise me. Out of nowhere, the drop forms, the memories hit, and a pang of sadness fills my thoughts.
As our friends sat around the dining room table today for our first Thanksgiving meal of the week, we reread some of our thoughts from the past Thanksgiving holidays. There it was: Oma. The last time she visited our house for Thanksgiving was 2017 and her list of thanks could have been uttered today. “Our country has had many bad times, but we are still happy we live in the United States.” As I reread past gratitude lists, her thoughts often centered on safety. She would be so thankful to hear Caden’s future father-in-law’s comments, ” I am so thankful that God answered our prayers for a Christian husband for our daughter. We have prayed and prayed for this and now God answered our prayers.”
As I read parts of the Thanksgiving story to our guests from Nigeria, New Zeeland, and China, my thoughts turned back to the many visits we enjoyed throughout the years. While living in Kansas, my parents would spend an entire week with us, helping with chores around our home and relaxing in the family room at night. Once we moved to Indiana, they still journeyed to our home but did not stay as long. My mom always ironed Mitch’s shirts, a task she thoroughly enjoyed! She would always marvel at our Thanksgiving dinner and often peeled the potatoes in amazing speed and dexterity I never quite achieved. They always enjoyed visiting with our international visitors, a tradition we started when Mitch first became a professor. We sometimes had to caution my father to avoid controversial topics! “Keep it light, Dad!”
As the tears threatened to continue, I remember a time when she and I were talking about the fact that she would not always be on this earth. “That time will come, Michelle,” she commented. “And you will be okay.”
Yes, Mom, I will be okay, but I will still miss you and am always thankful for your Thanksgiving visits.
A Journey Worth Remembering 