Category Archives: Thanksgiving

A Sheer Gift

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I sat feeling slightly defeated this morning as I stared at the Thankful Turkey my favorite and I made two Thanksgivings ago. My how (I thought) things were different back then…

Thanksgiving 2015: I was getting ready to celebrate married year number 9; 13 years total together with the one who had my heart. Oh how I loved him so – the good, the bad, the ugly. I was thankful for the life we had. I counted my blessings constantly and felt such peace. It certainly wasn’t always sunny in our lives, but I had learned to even treasure the rain. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my sweet little family of three (and all of our beloved hounds and those ladies of the roost) ❤ Little did I know the next Thanksgiving would feel gravely different.

I’ve had some anxiety recently and I cannot figure out what has triggered it. My heart just pounds. And pounds. And pounds. Much like it did at the beginning of this dark journey. Over time, my heart pounding has normalized, but something has it going again. Perhaps it is the time of year. More than likely it is the unfinished business. Or just maybe it is simply uncertainty when it comes to life. Truthfully, I am not really sure. It is probably all of it.

Back to this morning. In my Choose Joy devotional that my partner in crime gave to me after my life altered, I read ‘Our True Colors’ devotion. The passage associated with it is James 1:2 “Consider it a sheer gift, friend, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides.” Verses 3 and 4 go on to say, “You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.” Hmm…my life is beyond crazy gifted then, friends. I’m not sure I’d like anymore ‘gifts’ from life.

After my devotion, I stared defeatedly at this Thankful Turkey for quite some time while I sipped my morning tea. Uncertain. And then I remembered.

I have learned something, I believe to be detrimental in this life that I will share with you. And as I read the whole first chapter of James (recommend), verse 19 summed ‘er up nicely, “You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.” If there is anything I learned from what I perceived as my time of peace it is ‘slow and steady’. Rushing or reacting do not tend to work in our favor. I learned to sit and mull over. Over time, it develops an inner understanding that will become an outward flow. It takes stopping and feeling and giving yourself time to understand. If there is anything my perceived time of peace afforded me, it was this understanding: decisions shouldn’t be rushed, emotions shouldn’t always dictate our words, and never feel forced into anything. Taking time is okay.

I take this knowledge as a gift today. It keeps me grounded when my everyday life seems to change with the wind. I have no idea why my life has taken the altering twists and turns it has, but I am in awe of what I have learned. If there is one thing I am certain of, I am learning more. Everyday. I am becoming stronger. Everyday. I am becoming wiser. Everyday. I have more grace. Everyday. That is what is happening. I am learning such intricate details about what God, love and life is really all about. There is no other way to learn these things than through joys and sorrows. For it is in the joys and sorrows where the deep-rooted life appreciation grows.

It is amazing what can happen with the God perspective…I had such a creative day today. I think I enjoyed my solitude today more than I have in a very long time ❤ Trials are a gift. God will use them for good. I choose to live in my defiant joy ❤

 

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Glowing Great+Full

As I opened my blinds this Thanksgiving morning, the freshly-wet-from-rain, brown-orange-golden view made me pause. Millions of leaves lay disarray covering the ground in their final resting place. A few still clung to their branches, the trees almost appeared to be aching for them to finally let go. Each piece prepping for dark and stillness. Until next year…

The scape was simply stunning. The leaves going out with a bang. The scene made me recall a quote I had come across recently: “What are you going to do with all that dark?” “Find a way to glow in it.”

This year has been a life altering year. Having been put in situations I would have never dreamed of, there have been some dark moments. It’s been a time of crumbling, a time of changing, a time of letting go of a tree I was so deeply rooted in. Much of this year I have felt like a withered fall leaf floating, bouncing around controlled by a strong wind, trying desperately to find the ground – someplace firm to land – to finally rest.

Sipping my morning tea while trying to enjoy my favorite coffee cake and the view, I feel a sigh escape my body. In no way do things remotely resemble how I imagined them to be. It saddens my heart. I feel full. Full as in ‘that’s enough, please no more’. I need a breather. Can someone else tag in for a bit?

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As those feelings are toying with me, I glance down. My wrist reminder pulls me back. ‘Athas’ the Irish word for ‘Joy’. A token from a trip I took this year. A reminder. A saving grace. A word I fell in love with years ago. That word makes me crack a smile. I love when I see it pop up in life. It always makes me pause and take another look.

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So I look again and when I look this time, instead of full I see great. My beautiful view. My little boy. My favorite coffee cake. A beautiful fall. The smell of a turkey smoking. My family. Pictures I adore that make my heart smile. A sweet four-legged little girl. The amazing ladies I work with. Trips with fun and fabulous people. Laughing. On point memes. The sun shining. My favorite tea in a mug that warms my heart. The massive amounts of texts of love and support I receive daily. My tribe. My fierce tribe. I am greatly full.

The year has been a harder one. Autumn is not an easy season as it is for my family. And where I am ‘full’ things are still ‘great’. My current state may be floating aimlessly through the dark in an uncontrollable wind, but there is still spark and color. I see it. I feel it. And I will find a way to glow in it. So many ‘great+full’ moments still ❤

You’re Here…

“When I look to the sky, something tells me you’re here with me.” ❤

I awaken early this morning which isn’t abnormal, but instead of rolling over to go back to sleep my heart all ready aches. The weight of November 28th always stings. I know my mind won’t let me fall back asleep, my thoughts are all ready too consumed of you. I get up. I have a task to do for a turkey anyways. Season it. My mood is grumpy. This time of year is usually emotional now. I feel cheated. The holiday season doesn’t ever feel complete anymore. Something always seems ‘off’.

It’s challenging. November 26th is my anniversary. A wonderful time, a happy time, a cherished time followed two days later by my least favorite memory. How do I not steal moments from my marriage with the impending dread of November 28th? I try hard to be more present during this time so I can focus on the moment I’m in, but it’s always there. I’ll find myself snappy or impatient or just plain grumpy, and at first I’m not sure where it’s coming from. When I stop to gain control of my emotions, I quickly realize it’s sadness speaking out.

Back to this turkey. Season it. I’m tiredly and admittedly cranky seasoning this turkey. I feel like the naked bird – bland. Wish I could throw some salt, pepper, garlic, thyme and sage on me and VOILA! Transformed. As these thoughts are running through my head, the sky through my kitchen window catches my eye. “Beautiful.” I mumble to myself. I finish my task, grab my phone and tea, and head for my safe haven – the back porch. It’s quite nice outside to be so late in November. I snap some pictures. I let the moment soak in. You’re here. This is you saying good morning. Thank you for coming on the morning I need it most. I feel a little uplifted.

Back inside I decide to make your trademark breakfast, oatmeal. But not the same this morning, with a twist. Spice it up. Season it. Transformed. (Btw- it was good. Link here: http://www.foodista.com/recipe/64CFRJ68/baked-smores-oatmeal)

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After getting dressed, we decide to go pick out a Christmas tree. I snap a picture of course making the 5 year old pose in front of the selected tree. I see the sun rays coming in on the image, but when I get home to really check it out one ray shines brighter than the rest. Yes, I see you. Thank you. We’ll take this tree home and season it too. Transformed.

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As I’m riding back home the car in front of me catches my attention. The last kind of car you drove. You’re definitely here, especially today.

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The rest of the day provided more distraction than emotion. Which is a nice and needed break. You knew that too, didn’t you? You sat back, you watched, you smiled. You enjoyed seeing the laughs and grins and hugs throughout the day.

I felt you once again this evening. Watching my brother, at 29, tackle a new sport, hockey. Oh, you smirked (quite a few times), I felt it. Your presence was so close, a couple of times I thought I’d turn to my right and you’d be sitting there leaning back, arms crossed, long legs stretched out in front, with that smirk on your face you got when you were really tickled at something. You loved it. And were proud of your son (and probably slightly impressed too). My brother chose to try something new. Season it. Transformed.

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Five years. Five. Has it really been five years since I’ve hugged your neck, held your hand, curled up in your lap (yes, even at 27 years old I would curl up in my daddy’s lap) or pecked those lips (yes, we’re ‘that family’ that goes for the lips)?

With blurry eyes as I’ve written this, a tear finally escapes and slides down my cheek just now. It makes it all the way to my neck. A chill sets in deep. To try and explain how time passes when a close loved one is lost is hard. Time flies by, as it often does in life, but at the same time it feels as though laughter or a touch or tears were just shared with the one suddenly missing. Wasn’t it just yesterday…

“Time heals all wounds.” I’m not particularly fond of this saying. When a wound heals, it leaves a scar, a reminder. You do get used to this new life without this special person, but time doesn’t make the loss any easier.

I saw a quote not long ago, “The wound is the place where light enters you.” It caught me where I least expected it to. There is truth here. But only if you allow it. I felt the light all day. It doesn’t take the pain away, but I smile through the tears. And I’m left – transformed.