The Glue That Holds Us Together

     A  sweet friend posted a quote on Facebook Thanksgiving Day that caused me to pause for an extra minute or two on a day when we already pause for thankfulness.
     "Once the glue to the family passes away, holidays and family gatherings just aren't the same anymore," she posted.
     My response?
     No! You can be the new glue! Start new traditions! Don't hang on to the past. Incorporate the past into your now!
     We have so much to be thankful for, and you, dear friend, are among them. Our sweet mamas have been gone for many years now, and we do miss them, but we're not sad. We are full of thankfulness, appreciation and absolute joy.
     Today, it'll be just our little family around the table, but we are filling the day with our own traditions, fun and warm remembrances: A waffle breakfast, always cooked by me. Mawmaw's (my wife's mom) candied yams. Mimi's (my mom) favorite ham. "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium" (a movie that always makes me think of Thanksgiving because that's when we first saw it). The holiday jigsaw puzzle is ready to put together on the table. There will be a movie tonight, and, who knows, maybe a game of corn hole, since we added that little bit of fun last year.
     And, through it all, we'll be saying "thank you, God, for a wonderful year, a wonderful family, the love of friends, the blessing of a shelter over our heads, shoes on our feet and food in our bellies. Sure, we're older, our kids are making their own way in the world, and there are a few extra pills in the morning, but God woke me up this morning, reminding me that He CHOSE to bless me.
     It's a very good day, held together by years and generations of glue that make Thanksgiving look and feel different, but no less wonderful!
     I understand all too well the sense of loss that can come with the holidays. The Thanksgiving after
my dad died, my mom couldn't bear to be at home. We met cousins in Nashville and sent her to Indiana for a couple of weeks. It was good medicine for all of us, forcing all of us to re-imagine the holidays. The first Thanksgiving after my mom died, we went to Pigeon Forge, stayed at cabin and ate at a restaurant. Admittedly, that Thanksgiving was particularly weird and hard, but that was also the Thanksgiving when we saw "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium." It's also the Thanksgiving when I realized just how much I like leftovers. I missed the evening grazing and the next-day turkey sandwiches as much as anything. We were at loose ends.
     But, I also have discovered that we alone are responsible for how we react to change and loss and disappointment. Nobody owes us anything special. It is unreasonable and selfish to ask God to spare do that to ourselves. We put impossible pressures on ourselves to keep alive things that can't remain. Death is an unfortunate part of life on earth, the consequence of sin. Change is inevitable. I wouldn't stop time even if I could. I love seeing my kids grow into their own, making lives for themselves, forging their own paths.
     Last year, the last with my daughter at home, we took a vacation to Washington D.C. for Thanksgiving, eating Thanksgiving dinner downtown at a restaurant and finishing the day with a movie at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum's IMAX theater.
     This year, both our kids live away from home. Most days, it's just my wife and me, so we planned for a small Thanksgiving to give us the maximum amount of time we could have with each other, knowing this season will also pass. We took a quick trip to a cabin in Blue Ridge, playing games, watching Netflix, shopping and eating, then came home for a dinner that will produce leftovers.
     It won't be long before they are married and have in-laws who have their own holiday traditions. It would be selfish of us to expect they'll always be around our table. So, I'm making the most of the few hours I have with them.

     Thanksgiving for them is completely different than the Thanksgiving I would think of as traditional for me. They don't remember their grandfathers, great grandparents or a house full of cousins. They barely remember our moms, who passed away before our kids were out of elementary school. They remember our traditions. They long for the familiarity that come with doing the same things in the same house with the same people.
     Today, as we prepare to sit down together as a family, I realize that my wife and I are the glue that holds their holidays together. We've forged our own traditions. No, it won't be the same after we're gone. It shouldn't be. They'll need to develop their own traditions, traditions that will be familiar to their spouses and kids, and, just like their parents before them and our parents before us, they will be the glue that holds the holidays together, and for that, I am thankful.
     Gotta go. There's a corn hole game with my name on it outside, some cranberry apple chutney waiting and popcorn heating up at the movie theater.
     Happy Thanksgiving.