Thankfulness

Thanksgiving is probably my second favorite holiday after Christmas. Though this particular national celebration has somewhat dubious beginnings, the idea of setting aside a day every year to get together with family and remember everything we have to be thankful for... is appealing. 

It's also complicated.

Family is complicated. I am always grateful to see my family from out of town whom I only get to see a couple times a year, yet I am also always exhausted from all the social requirements of hosting and socializing - something a little out of the comfort zone for this introvert. (Hence why I am taking a break from it all to write this blog.)

Family get-togethers have a way of bringing up the good, the bad and the ugly of family relationships. Past hurts swim up to the surface, certain land mines are avoided at all costs, and there are awkward pauses when everyone struggles to change the subject before someone gets upset. Kids run around at full throttle with dogs weaving in and out between them; there are three different kinds of music blasting and a random clog out on the grass; and there's the one cat who refuses to come out from under the bed. There's a mess in the kitchen and dishes in the sink and the one responsible for the cooking (thankfully not me) busying around, one step removed from the rest of the chaos.

But there are also board games and laughter and whispered secrets and staying up late to catch up on life. There's who's gotten taller and who lost a tooth and wow doesn't she look just like her dad. There are memories of the past and promises for the future. 

And finally, when all the food is done and we gather around the table, there's the moment of thankfulness. I'm sure we're not the only family who takes a beat to have everyone share what they are thankful for. Whether it's the five-year-old declaring they are thankful for Legos or the grandfather saying he's grateful for Jesus, everyone has a turn. Then there's a prayer, and the feast begins.

It occurs to me that not everyone has such a hectic, boisterous Thanksgiving. The single mom with her kids, the college kids on their own far from home, the widow with the empty seat at her table. I wish they could all be adopted into a family, into chaos, so they too would have a place to celebrate.

My visiting family have a bumper sticker on their van that alludes to this saying, "If you have more than you need, build a bigger table, not a higher fence." 

I have not been gifted with the gift of hospitality, to be honest. It's hard for me to open my home, even to family. My home is my refuge. But I do so because I want to be a good steward of what I have, and we have space to share. I want to share with my family.

But I'm challenged often to consider, what would it mean to open my home up to more? 

I have no answer... it's just something I ponder.

As we sit at the table tonight, I think I will be reminded of the banquet table mentioned many times in the Bible when talking about eternal life. I don't know if this is a metaphorical banquet table, or if there will be a literal banquet table, but the image is encouraging. This table will have room for everyone - for everyone who has accepted the invitation to be at the celebration. There will be people from every tribe and race and nation. People not all family of blood but all family of God. And at that celebration, I imagine, there will not be any bumps and bruises from playing too hard outside. There will not be chaos and disorder and dishes to clean. 

There will be joy. Pure... joy.

This day of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for our home, for our family, for the peace God has given me after such a long time of turmoil. I am thankful for a time to get together, even though it's a little crazy. I am thankful for our health. I am thankful for opportunities that lie ahead.

And I am thankful for the banquet table that awaits us. Where everyone who wants it will find a seat at the table.