I have never been able to make myself prepare a proper Thanksgiving meal here (partly because our German oven was the size of a shoe box). Our first Thanksgiving in Germany saw me alone and traveling to the Black Forest to fill the void left by J's not being here. That year, I was wallowing in a deep pit of self pity and actually cried when J called me from his parent's home. It wasn't a pretty day. Subsequent years saw our family going to the dining facility where I was gleeful at the prospect of not having to clean up a sink full of crusted pots and pans but saddened by the feeling of being alone whilst surrounded by hundreds of people.
This year was no different except I did cook a small feast the day after so that we might feel as though it were really a holiday. Christmas has nothing on the loneliness of Thanksgiving. We planned to meet and eat with friends at the dining facility, and though it was fun, it was hardly a true substitute.
As I prayed over my meal and counted my many blessings, my children kept coming to the forefront of my mind. My dearest friend is facing the harsh reality of planning for the birth and death of her son, diagnosed with trisomy 13, while another friend is faced with leaving his young children behind as he faces hospice care after a hard fought battle with lymphoma. Why God hasn't seen fit to try me with more harrowing and sobering ordeals I don't know, but I'm thankful for His grace and many gifts.
No comments:
Post a Comment