My parents went to a Turkish restaurant in London for their meal. My sister, brother, Grandma, Grandpa and a few other relatives ate out in Minneapolis. And I slaved over a meal for my family in India. NOT. Nope. Who am I kidding!
We went with a bunch of other families out to eat. I sat snuggled between my Hubster who had Abe on his lap, and a prego, lovely Aussie mommy who had her darling toddler on her lap and Zana was heating up my lap of luxury.
We ordered Indian food, chicken, mutton, and paneer. We ate roti, rice and saucy dishes with our fingers. No sweet potatoes, ham and silver cutlery for us. We sat, two American families and two Australian families surrounded by other friends at other tables from India, South African and West, South and Mid America. It was chaotic but pleasant.
Even though it didn't include a family photo, or Christmas crafts at the ready, or turkey, it felt homey because each of us around that table have made this place our home for this time and by Christ's grace we are truly family.
Thanksgiving is difficult. I miss my grandparents more than I can ever express. Some wise man wrote from Duluth to us today. He wrote to us a Happy Christmas and remarked how when he lived overseas it was Thanksgiving that was the most difficult. I have found this to be true. I think it is because Christmas is perhaps more universal, more known, more shared. But Thanksgiving isn't quite as universal. The menu varies, the traditions vary, the traditions are as diversified as the number of families there are in the US of A. However the people never vary because Thanksgiving is always for family.
I miss Grandpa who always leads our family in singing hymns, a small devotional and then a prayer of dedication. I miss my Grandpa who faithfully calls the entire family, no matter how fidgety, to give thanks to God for something in the year past. I miss my Grandma who made the bestest food and sits fidgeting more than ANYONE else while Grandpa leads. I miss my Grandma fluttering and flying about and making the meal special. I miss that they aren't doing Thanksgiving in their home this year due to physical limitations. I miss them.
Around our table today a beautiful Aussie (not the prego one but a blonde with a dreamy voice and an awe inspiring creative talent in everything from salads, to art, to music, to writing, to gardens) led us in a song of praise, I heard echoing around me the power of my Grandpa's voice. I was even a little disappointed that Aussie lady did not wave her arms around to keep us all together like Grandpa does but I think that would have been a tall order. She may have knocked out a waiter who was hovering.
As we finished our Indian (not the Native American kind) Thanksgiving and Abe and Zana were ready to leave we did my dear to heart tradition led by my kind and willing Hubster. We went around and we said what we were thankful for this year. My heart swelled as I saw the many years past and the many years to come and I was thankful.
Guess that was the point of the holiday.
We went with a bunch of other families out to eat. I sat snuggled between my Hubster who had Abe on his lap, and a prego, lovely Aussie mommy who had her darling toddler on her lap and Zana was heating up my lap of luxury.
We ordered Indian food, chicken, mutton, and paneer. We ate roti, rice and saucy dishes with our fingers. No sweet potatoes, ham and silver cutlery for us. We sat, two American families and two Australian families surrounded by other friends at other tables from India, South African and West, South and Mid America. It was chaotic but pleasant.
Even though it didn't include a family photo, or Christmas crafts at the ready, or turkey, it felt homey because each of us around that table have made this place our home for this time and by Christ's grace we are truly family.
Thanksgiving is difficult. I miss my grandparents more than I can ever express. Some wise man wrote from Duluth to us today. He wrote to us a Happy Christmas and remarked how when he lived overseas it was Thanksgiving that was the most difficult. I have found this to be true. I think it is because Christmas is perhaps more universal, more known, more shared. But Thanksgiving isn't quite as universal. The menu varies, the traditions vary, the traditions are as diversified as the number of families there are in the US of A. However the people never vary because Thanksgiving is always for family.
I miss Grandpa who always leads our family in singing hymns, a small devotional and then a prayer of dedication. I miss my Grandpa who faithfully calls the entire family, no matter how fidgety, to give thanks to God for something in the year past. I miss my Grandma who made the bestest food and sits fidgeting more than ANYONE else while Grandpa leads. I miss my Grandma fluttering and flying about and making the meal special. I miss that they aren't doing Thanksgiving in their home this year due to physical limitations. I miss them.
Around our table today a beautiful Aussie (not the prego one but a blonde with a dreamy voice and an awe inspiring creative talent in everything from salads, to art, to music, to writing, to gardens) led us in a song of praise, I heard echoing around me the power of my Grandpa's voice. I was even a little disappointed that Aussie lady did not wave her arms around to keep us all together like Grandpa does but I think that would have been a tall order. She may have knocked out a waiter who was hovering.
As we finished our Indian (not the Native American kind) Thanksgiving and Abe and Zana were ready to leave we did my dear to heart tradition led by my kind and willing Hubster. We went around and we said what we were thankful for this year. My heart swelled as I saw the many years past and the many years to come and I was thankful.
Guess that was the point of the holiday.
No comments:
Post a Comment