I remember the celebration at my great aunts house. All of us crammed into three rooms together. While the men watched football and rested their eyes, the children played, and the women somehow ended up on dish duty. The aromas that filled the air still come back with such fondness. Times felt so simple and people so easy to connect with. There were no distractions, just conversations and laughter. My grandma would always bring wrapped up presents so that the kids could play bingo, and we squealed with delight when we won. We usually rolled back into our blue mini van to head to the next gathering.
We traveled to my grandparents house in our hometown. By the time we arrived, everyone was ready for a dinner feast. They'd had the afternoon to enjoy their turkey comas. We gathered around the table; conversation flowing, laughter filling the air, and such love passing between us. We usually retired to the living room to search through the newspaper ads for the next morning. And sometimes there was a rousing crokinole game going on in the spare room.
As I reflect on these thankful moments in my life, I can't help but miss the figures that are now gone from the table. Their presence eternally etched in my heart, but their absence felt on these days of gathering with those that we love. I used to think that Thanksgiving was a once a year deal, but now; I'm pretty sure it should be celebrated everyday.
Each day we have the chance to mindfully connect with those who are near and dear to us. We can reach out and express our appreciation. We can shower those we love with kindness. We can grant compassion to those who challenge us. We have the ability each day to marvel at the miraculous moments of our lives. The moments that fill our spirits as well as the ones that bring us to our knees. Our lives are such a blessing, may we always live in a way that honors the sacredness of our being. In the words of Henry David Thoreau, "I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual."
May You Sweetly Seek:)
In Gratitude,
Sarah