My Thanksgiving Post–a lesson from Joy

 

I told myself that I wasn’t going to do it this year, that there was no need in my joining the hordes of other “what I’m thankful for” Thanksgiving posts. It’s not that I’m ungrateful or a snob or anything; it’s just that I’ve never been a crowd-follower. I’ve just always thought of myself as more of a leader, or a loner at times…when I have no one following me. But that doesn’t stop me; I just keep walking. But then she had to do this:

My niece made it, and although it doesn’t look like much, it stopped our Thanksgiving conversations in their tracks.

We were all lounging around outside, after eating our second portions of Thanksgiving deliciousness and our post-lunch holiday nap. The kids were playing in the rocks near the empty fire pit as the adults sat back in the lawn chairs and looked on, chatting about upcoming plans for Christmas and New Year’s–always, always planning ahead. When Whitley, my four-year old niece, made us all look back.

She made the arrangement you see above, stood back, and exclaimed, “This is for Grandma Joy, who couldn’t be here for our Thanksgiving today.”

A hush fell over us and our conversation dropped, along with our jaws.

My grandmother has been gone now since 2001, and Whitley has never even met her. She’s only seen a picture of woman with white curls, light wrinkled skin and kind eyes hanging on my mother’s wall, but Whitley remembered her, the woman who once held this family together.

Thanksgiving was her thing. As a chef and a mother who loved to see her children full and smiling after a warm meal, my grandmother lived for this holiday, and she held the joy of the holidays in her heart year round. The two things I remember my grandmother saying more than anything is: “What’s your hurry?” and “Do you want something to eat?” You see my grandmother knew the secret to life: to slow down and enjoy it. That’s why she made her savory dishes from scratch and sat them in front of hungry faces, a snare and prelude to the heartfelt conversation that would always come next.

Today, in  an act of desperate boredom, my son and I went to Wal-Mart partly to investigate their Black Friday sales, but mainly to get my 200 walk-in points via ShopKick (I’m only a few hundred points away from a gift card). Everyone was so hurried, and I know it was only worse last night. Needless to say, we left nearly empty-handed (I say nearly because I got my ShopKick points). However, I couldn’t help but think,”I wonder if my grandma would ask them what their hurry is?”

I know a lot of people who get caught up in the commercialism of it all. My Facebook feed then fills with a list of thanks-giving to businesses, sales, and good deals. While these are all wonderful benefits, they also come with a price: hurried-ness. And it’s in these bouts of rushed panic that we forget the very people for whom we are shopping.

This Thanksgiving I’m thankful for Grandma Joy and the small voice of a little girl who quieted her elders and reenforced my grandmother’s lesson.