thanksgiving 2011

I woke up this morning feeling a little sad. My mom is in Italy, my dad and my grandmother are in Southern California, my sister and her husband are in Texas, my other sister is in Northern California, my second family (my in-laws) are in the Bay Area, my Nicole is in Florida, my Sarah is in Oregon, and the rest of our family and closest friends are, well, all over the place. We are scattered, and I woke up today feeling a little too untethered, a little too far away from the ones we love. I didn't realize how much I missed a big family holiday until I woke up this morning feeling an achey mixture of deep gratitude for the blessings in my life and a longing to be with our parents and siblings. I feel better now, a little restored and more determined than ever to create the kind of life someday where holidays with our families are the norm. I had my cry, Kevin held me, I called my mother-in-law, I had a nice home-cooked egg breakfast, and then I talked to my mom via Skype - all of these things helped.  

Despite feeling a little blue today, I am also feeling grateful. I am grateful for friends who are like family who will welcome us into their warm and comfortable home for today's feasting. I am thankful for the many beautiful people in my life, for my sweet Lola, for my health, for a roof over my head, for a job, for my mind, for my marriage, for the many possibilities before me. I am thankful for books, wine, activists, and music. I am thankful for our family of friends here in Minnesota. I am especially thankful for my partner, my sweet husband, and for the strength and hope he's shown over the trials of the past year. 

Poetry always helps get me into the right frame of mind, and today has been no exception. Here is a lovely Thanksgiving poem by Linda McCarriston, from today's Writer's Almanac.

Thanksgiving

by Linday McCarriston

Every year we call it down upon ourselves,


the chaos of the day before the occasion,


the morning before the meal. Outdoors,


the men cut wood, fueling appetite


in the gray air, as Nana, Arlene, Mary,


Robin—whatever women we amount to—


turn loose from their wrappers the raw,


unmade ingredients. A flour sack leaks,


potatoes wobble down counter tops


tracking dirt like kids, blue hubbard erupts


into shards and sticky pulp when it's whacked


with the big knife, cranberries leap away

rather than be halved. And the bird, poor


blue thing—only we see it in its dead skin—


gives up for good the long, obscene neck, the gizzard,


the liver quivering in my hand, the heart.



So what? What of it? Besides the laughter,


I mean, or the steam that shades the windows


so that the youngest sons must come inside


to see how the smells look. Besides


the piled wood closing over the porch windows,


the pipes the men fill, the beers


they crack, waiting in front of the game.



Any deliberate leap into chaos, small or large,


with an intent to make order, matters. That's what.


A whole day has passed between the first apple


cored for pie, and the last glass polished


and set down. This is a feast we know how to make,


a Day of Feast, a day of thanksgiving


for all we have and all we are and whatever


we've learned to do with it: Dear God, we thank you


for your gifts in this kitchen, the fire, 


the food, the wine. That we are together here.


Bless the world that swirls outside these windows—


a room full of gifts seeming raw and disordered,


a great room in which the stoves are cold,


the food scattered, the children locked forever 


outside dark windows. Dear God, grant


to the makers and keepers power to save it all.

I wish you and yours a very happy day of feasting and gratitude. 

thanksgiving

I have so much to be grateful for this year: my husband, my family, my amazing friends, my health, my home, my sweet dog, financial stability, the health of my loved ones, and an open heart with which I am learning to recognize and accept God's grace in my life.

It's been a big year with a lot of changes and a lot of inner turmoil and questioning of what my purpose in life is, and, as I reflect on the questions that keep me up most at night ("where am I going?" and "who am I going there with?"), I realize that I am so blessed to be able to ask these questions and to have the luxury of time with which I can start to answer them.

I am also incredibly blessed to have a supportive and loving partner, a person who is working on answering these questions for his own life, someone I can rely on to love me unconditionally as I struggle with these questions, and with whom I can share the journey of becoming. My goal for the end of this year, and for the coming year, is to continue to work on doing what I can, with what I have - to take it one day at a time, to keep sight of my true priorities, to be more accepting of my flaws, to give more to my community, and to put my energy toward the relationships that I value so much (including my relationship with God, and my relationship with myself).

I get so overwhelmed sometimes with the senselessness of the world - the violence, the greed, the corruption, the vapidness, the blatant neglection of the poor, the suffering, and the lonely, the fascination with the grotesque, the pervasive indifference of so many, and the vast inequities in our society - that I forget about the fact that, though I can't do everything that I yearn to do, there are many things I can do, and, that the world will always have a place for people who want to create change within there own sphere of influence (and, that small as that sphere may sometimes seem, it is a very important sphere). I also have to remind myself that, though the world longs for a restoration of balance, there is still so much to be inspired by - that there is still beauty and adventure and passion, action to be taken, and HOPE.

Whoa - a lot heavier of a post than I originally intended it to be, but it feels good to share these thoughts. A very happy Thanksgiving to all of you and yours! Here is my little family on Thanksgiving day.

Love to you all.