Thankful

Thanksgiving is my favorite time of year because it's huge for my family. We don't have football traditions, but we sure have cooking traditions. Over the years my mother and my uncle have spent their early holiday mornings trying to make their mother's turkey stuffing. Finally, they hacked it and it's become a staple of our celebrations despite the fact that my mother doesn't like it.

Tradition is big in my family. Everyone arrives at the house at least two hours before the meal to socialize and help. Then, the meal is served and we have boisterous conversations about years past. My sister Ellen never fails to incorrectly remember a situation the girls and I found ourselves in years ago. My sister Erin gives her the hardest time as our step-siblings encourage her with their giggling.

By meal's end we're in a fit of laughter as we wipe the tears from our eyes because everything was just that funny. The parents sit down to watch the latest series they've been watching on Netflix and the pie is served with a side of Granny's signature strawberry Jell-O. It's quite the sight and oh, how I miss them.

This is my first time away from home and my first Thanksgiving without them. Our 2,500 mile distance has never felt so far. It's a sacrifice for all of us, but from every sacrifice comes grace. My sisters are spending more time at home and our relationship via social media is improving. It's a joy to bear this struggle knowing we're all better for it.

So this Thanksgiving I am thankful for the struggles of life. It's only out of darkness that one can understand the importance of the Light. Through this particular struggle my life has been transformed. My spiritual life has never been so intense and my relationship with my mother has never been so genuine. So, this Thanksgiving whether it's a great one or not be thankful for your own struggles.

Happy Thanksgiving!

34 Hours and 28 Minutes

Two months ago I packed up my life and walked into the Dayton International airport to leave for a ten month internship in Bremerton, WA. My mother drove me there and waited with me as I checked my bags. We walked to the security line and I fiddled with my ticket trying to think of something to say. She just asked if I had everything and stuffed a few extra snacks into my carry-on.

Before I knew it she looked at me with tears behind her purple reading glasses. We hugged each other hoping to make the hug last until my Christmas break in December. Soon it was time to go and she just smiled and said, "I love you. Have a good time." I'm still not sure how she did that without crying, but then again mothers are superheroes.

I'm sure that's one of the hardest things either of us have done, but what amazes me is that we weren't scared. She knew God would watch over me and I knew he'd watch over her. This is the definition of faith; knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that God has your best interests at heart. God has given the two of us so much grace through this journey.

Though we're thirty four hours and twenty eight minutes, if I got in my car and drove, our relationship has never been stronger. God called the two of us to this journey and has blessed us since that first prayer.