Several weeks ago, I put out an all-call for people to send in their thanks, what they will say during grace, as Thanksgiving should be about more than just turkey with cranberries. There should also be pie. And ice cream.
I had friends and family send replies, for which I was thankful; there were also "strangers" who noted their thanks, for which I was grateful.
Friends who had been struggling financially were thankful for their jobs, their ability to pay bills; family members who had experienced losses were appreciative of remaining family members.
Some among those whom I didn’t know gave thanks for their family members who had survived harrowing diseases; one new friend shared that 2011 brought her the gift of international family. Nearly every respondent mentioned loved ones—family or friends.
We are thankful for what gives us identity:
Our careers illuminate our agendas; they can cast shadows or light depending on whether we’ve learned the art of navigating them. Even if we haven’t, the stability in being able to pay for our responsibilities is sometimes enough.
Our friends and families make us who we are; they are light. We see ourselves more clearly when they are near. We know we are not alone in a world that is isolating, in a world that does not guarantee acceptance.
We are more thankful for arriving on the other side of last year's heartaches.
My career is one I didn’t choose; I felt ordained to teach people how to write better. For ten years, I’ve migrated the country and taught hundreds of adults—some young, others not as young—how to articulate thoughts fairly. Now, as I consider leaving my field to spend more time with my daughters and my writing, I lay awake at night wondering what life will look like without a lesson plan.
Then I remember the girls with whom I’ve interacted this year, the women who in reaching out to me for support brought my life greater meaning. I think about how I teach them—not by using grammar or citations, but by reminding them to punctuate life with bold vulnerability and to give credit to the One who makes them whole.
My husband and I, after having nearly lost sight of why we had gotten married, discovered this past year a love and respect and admiration for each other that allows us to function better individually. I know Greg is the person created by God to help me become the woman I am destined to be. He believes the same of me. I trust Greg more now than I did when we were in our young twenties, kayaking the sea, recklessly committed to a friendship we had not anticipated would be set on fire—both in love, and then in trial. Satan tried to sabotage our marriage, but we retaliated and overcame.
Together, Greg and I share two daughters who although unique, are still reflections of us. When we see ourselves in our daughters, it frees us to be less self-critical than we ordinarily would be: in admiring idiosyncratic qualities in them, we learn to appreciate the same quirks in ourselves.
My God has used this year to deliver me from a prison I did not know I was in. I am a different person today than I was on this day last year. I’m less inclined these days to take things too personally. I no longer self-reject. I will never speak out self-fulfilling prophecies that serve only to exclude myself from a life God desires for me.
Last year, I was pregnant with Eva. Ariel would only eat the mashed potatoes during our Thanksgiving meal.
This year I am pregnant with expectation. My family and I feast daily on the goodness of God.
Even though Greg and I don’t know the specifics of our careers come 2012, we are certain in this: our God has revealed to us the depth of our marriage—we contain multitudes—and together we can pummel through any storm, pray through every ordeal. We owe it to our daughters to teach them what we’ve learned, what we know is the most profound blessing among all blessings: God will provide all of our needs, even some of our wants. The effect may not resemble the fantasy, but the reality sustains us throughout the generations—like cornucopias. Like grace.
Happy Thanksgiving, friend.
May the God who deserves all thanks bless you with the desires of your heart.
Has this year brought solace to your heart because of a heartache you faced last year? If so, has healing secured you more in your true identity? If you blogged about your thanks, post a link to it here!
Before I was married, my hairdresser told me about a woman in her sixties who explained to him the meaning of marriage, the breakdown of gender roles, and the secret to staying together. She could see beyond her husband’s analytical nature. She was perspicacious. It thus became her job to let her husband in on the nuances of others—ticks, sidelong glances, subtleties. Once her husband had been informed of her observations and ensuing opinions, she trusted his judgment. Her husband, a prominent entrepreneur, used her insights to make the best decisions for business, for family, for himself. After forty years of marriage, by operating out of their inherent strengths, they had created a peaceful and thriving life together, as one.
