Our First Thanksgiving (sort of)

Since baby's due date is so close, we've known for a while that we'd be spending Thanksgiving at home on Cottage Lane. The exciting thing is that my brother and sister are coming hundreds of miles a piece to be with us! So, with some other friends from church, we expect to have 10 at the table. 10 born people, anyway. :-)

John realized that it's the first time in his life ever that he hasn't been at his parents' table for this holiday. Several people have asked me if it's the first time I've cooked the turkey. I started to say "yes," but then I remembered a Thanksgiving three years ago . . .

It was right before God brought John clearly into my life, and I was having quite a mix of good days and bad days. Mom had had serious shoulder surgery about a month before and she wasn't allowed to lift more than a pencil with that hand. (This was not put-you-in-a-sling-and-come-back-for-pt-in-2-weeks surgery. My mother's case makes me annoyed at people who complain over nothing and lead doctors to treat everyone super-conservatively. When she actually admits she's in pain, it usually means her condition is almost past the fixable point. End of rant . . . )

Grandpa Smith had died earlier in the year, leaving the rest of the family to wonder how long we would have with Grandma, and to realize how important it was for us to treasure our time together. So, that side of the family all decided to get together at Grandma's house, but to bring the food to her.

The day before Thanksgiving, Heidi and I made our traditional excessive number of pies and then headed over to Grandma's house for the night. I have sweet, sweet memories of that evening. We rolled up dozens of potato-dough crescent rolls while watching Harvey with Grandma on my laptop, and set out the chairs at the huge tables and decked the doorways with bittersweet. Heidi and I slept in the guest room bed together just like we had when we were little, and in the morning I dressed in brown pants and a cream sweater and put a ribbon in my hair. Then it was time for us to rub that big turkey in olive oil and slide bay leaves under its skin, fussing over it with as much excited pride as a couple of aunts might have fussed over a chubby baby. (I hope it's not disturbing to anyone that I just compared a turkey to a baby . . . )

The rest of the family came later with the mashed potatoes and green bean casserole and the rest of the indispensable Thanksgiving fare, but that was my first turkey. And I am so thankful for those memories. :-)