Post Thanksgiving Day Reflections

I'm a Hallmark movie kind of girl, so of course I got emotional waiting for my brother at the airport. I stood there on the day before Thanksgiving with about fifty other people. In any other situation, it would have been awkward standing so close to complete strangers, just waiting around in public, but all of us were united in the camaraderie created by waiting for our loved ones.

A flight landed just before my brother's, so people started to trickle out. I watched as people I didn't know jumped into each others' arms, and little children cheered, "Grandma!" As I stood there, a lump developed in my throat. I hadn't seen any of my family in months, so I was already excited. I also felt moved by the love I could sense in the reunions of strangers standing around me.

I recently read a book called Edmund Persuader. If you're a Jane Austen fan, you should check it out. Here's a quote that came to mind while I was waiting in the airport:

It is hard for us today to imagine how difficult leave takings were in those days. Death waited everywhere -- in the first signs of a cough, in the inflammation caused by a rotted tooth, in the perils of common travel. Fifty miles could be a distance as great as a continent seems to us. The mails were slow and letter-writing itself of course has its limitations: and such correspondence was the only alternative to travel -- there was no instant communication. Even the images people took away to remind themselves of one another might be at best only crude miniatures or two- dimensional silhouettes. And then, as now, life led onward by winding routes, never showing what the view ahead might be after the next bend. (p.534)

 

I can't imagine. It feels so difficult to be separated from my parents and siblings, and I can call, text, email, or Skype them whenever I feel like it. Not to mention that I have hundreds of excellent photos of all of them. Their pictures are on my desk and in frames all over my house. Even though we're separated by distance, they are still very present in my daily life.

At the risk of sounding cheesy [see the first sentence of this post.], I can't help but feel thankful.

Nobody hog tied me and forced me to move to North Carolina. I came here to be with my husband, a man who genuinely loves me and treats me well. I have an awesome brother who's able and willing to hop on a plane to come see me. The rest of my family gathers around and talks to me on Skype. I have in-laws who treat me like a daughter and welcome my brother at Thanksgiving dinner as if they'd been missing him all along.  All of us are healthy, we have plenty to eat, and all of us have a place to live. We drive reliable cars and order pizza.

In the last few months, I've been doing a lot of reflecting about life. I can see in a fresh way how blessed I am with the things you really can't count: love, people, relationships, laughter, wisdom, inner strength, and most of all God. It seems to me that those are the things that really matter the most. Those also happen to be the things no one can take away.

Although I have access to the latest technology and can communicate with my family any time, saying goodbye to them is always hard. Taking my brother back to the airport was just as difficult as picking him up was delightful. Even so, I can have peace because I know who God is. I can rest in the faith that he loves every person I love even more than I can. He's the one ultimately responsible for the good things in my life.  "Every good action and every perfect gift is from God. These good gifts come down from the Creator of the sun, moon, and stars, who does not change like their shifting shadows." (James 1:17 NCV)

I'm thankful this year for all the usual things: family, food, water, and electricity. However, my gratitude also goes deeper than that. I am thankful for salvation, love, and hope, too. I am able to go to sleep every night knowing that, in Christ, I'll never be truly separated from the ones I love.

All I can say is, "Thank you, Lord."

Image Credit: aboutmyrecovery.com