Happy Thanksgiving! This year has been one overflowing with blessings for me!! I know that busyness often crowds our day, but take a few moments to stop and thank the Lord for His goodness in your life.
On Sunday, my family and I visited a church in Baton Rouge, LA, where we sang for their special Thanksgiving service. During the sermon, the pastor mentioned something that caught my attention. That one phrase has lingered in my mind this week and, by God's grace, has developed into a short story. I may eventually polish the story up for actual publication, but I wanted to share it with you today! How I wish that I have fully learned the lesson presented in the short story.
Just as I laid the baby down, a car
horn outside blared outside. I tensed and waited for a brief second. That was
it. Ava's eyes popped open and her mouth released a scream.
I lifted her to my shoulder and
glanced out the window. The mail truck waited with what I knew would be a hefty
package.
"Jackson, keep her
quiet." I plopped Ava onto the floor and ignored her cries as I jerked the
door open.
"Package for you, Mrs. Randall."
The blonde mail-lady lifted a box from the back of her truck. I braced myself
for its weight as she handed it over. From above the package, I could see her
sheepish grin. "I already placed the other mail in your mailbox." I nodded
mutely. Of course she did, when I didn't have time to take the trek up the
driveway.
I muttered a "Thank you"
before I turned back to the house. I deposited the package on the floor and attempted
a smile at Jackson before saying, "Mommy will be right back and I'll take
Ava." He didn't seem to acknowledge my words as he looked back at Ava and
rattled the toy harder.
The air plunged through my thin
jacket as I stepped outside again. If I weren't in a hurry, I would have
enjoyed the quiet trek to the mailbox. But it was the day before Thanksgiving
and Ryan--my husband--had to work long hours. Why didn't I leave the mail until
later? I sighed as I flipped the little door open. If I didn't get it now, I
would forget and Ryan might see something that was intended as his surprise Christmas
gift.
"Good morning, Mrs.
Randall."
I turned my head and gave a slight
wave to our neighbor. "Morning Mrs. Crowe." A slight tinge of
jealousy pricked my insides. She was taking her leisurely morning walk, as
usual. Ryan and I used to do the same--even when we had Jackson and Emma we had
managed it. But now with the addition of Joy, Mason, and Ava, any leisure time
was a thing of the past.
"How are your Thanksgiving
plans coming along?"
I didn't have time for this
chit-chat. If I strained, I could hear an echo of Ava's sobs. "They're
coming. We decided to stay home again and have just our family's Thanksgiving."
It seemed impolite to leave it there, so I added, "What are your
Thanksgiving plans?"
A peaceful smile rested on Mrs.
Crowe's face. "A nice, quiet home. Then supper with the grandkids after
4:00. They told me not to cook anything but," she lowered her voice as if
confiding, "I managed a few sweets after all and they'll not
complain."
I tried to match Mrs. Crowe's
amusement, but I knew my smile was fake. Pasted there. I flipped absently
through my mail then said, "I left Jackson in charge of Ava, I'd better
get back before he goes crazy."
Mrs. Crowe laughed and gave a wave.
"Have a blessed weekend!"
I waved back then turned, my heart
feeling heavier, not blessed. Maybe one day, when the children were grown and
out of the house, I would have such a relaxed Thanksgiving as Mrs. Crowe. I
turned to sneak a glimpse of her walking back to her house. Did she have any
sadness for this weekend? Any moments of missing her husband and the child who
had passed away? I shrugged. There were my own problems to deal with--like a
croupy baby and four other children who somehow needed to make Thanksgiving
dishes without me going insane or the house burning down. Just why did we start
the tradition of each child preparing their own dish?
"Mom, she won't be
happy!" Jackson's moan greeted me as I entered the house again. I tossed
the mail on top of the box I had brought in earlier and scooped Ava into my
arms. Her voice lowered to whimpers.
"Can you get your siblings up
please?" I turned to my list as I heard Jackson trot away to obey. A few
minutes later, he was back.
"Do we get to make the
cornbread now?"
"We haven't had breakfast
yet!"
"That's okay! I can eat while
I do it."
I shook my head firmly and, with
one hand balancing Ava, pulled out bowls, cereal, and milk.
"Did you tell them to come
eat?"
"No ma'am."
My shoulders drooped and I glared
at Jackson. Sometimes, I could not understand his seven-year-old mind. "Go
get them."
The bedraggled group finally
gathered around the table and we managed enough silence to say a prayer before they
began clamoring for their preferences. I finally set Ava in her high-chair,
which only added to the volume.
"Okay! Silence!" The
sudden hush--even from Ava--almost made me feel guilty. But the beautiful quiet
soothed my conscience. "One at a time. Mason, what did you want?"
The breakfast nightmare was finally
over, giving way to clean-up and getting all of the children dressed. 11:00
came too early and nothing from my list was checked off.
"Now can we do the cornbread?" Jackson was persistent.
"No. Wait until I am
ready." What I really wanted was for him to be old enough to do it himself instead of me making it through him,
taking twice the time.
Ava was finally down for her nap by
noon and I kept the children walking tip-toe around the house while we started
our Thanksgiving meal preparations. We got Jackson's corn-bread made for the
dressing, chicken on to boil, and Emma's pecan pie started when Ava woke with a
scream.
"I can finish, Mama."
Emma tried to sound helpful, but I didn't quite trust her six-year-old
capabilities.
"No, leave it for now." I
rushed into the bedroom and scooped up Ava only to discover her diaper needed
changing. This was a task I could not wait until Emma was old enough to handle.
But for today, it was my job.
A crash sounded then, "Maaaa-ma!"
The panicked cry from the kitchen made me finish Ava's diaper change roughly
and I sped to the disaster that awaited me.
"I was--trying--to--"
Emma didn't get the final words out by the time I caught sight of the goopy
yellow mess that was now slathered across the floor. Would we ever get a step
ahead? I set Ava into Jackson's arms and got on my hands and knees.
"Emma you help clean this
up--I told you to wait." I did not even try to keep the impatience from
etching my voice.
"Mama, I hun-gee." Mason
nestled up close to me, with his fingers in his mouth.
Of course he would be. It was past
1:30. I finished cleaning up the pecan pie remains and put together a half
dozen sandwiches. Finally, Ava was quiet enough in her high chair and I left the
children around the table for just a few minutes of calm. Again, I looked over
my list. Nothing was scratched off. I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the
pain that crept in. Finally, I rewrote the list and rescheduled the few hours I
had left before Ryan got home. Maybe I could persuade him to help--but I knew
that wasn't fair, as he had been at work since 6:00. Of course, I had been at
work too since then, between Ava and the children. How anyone thought a
stay-at-home mom wasn't a fulltime job, I don't know.
The chatter in the dining room
turned to clattering of dishes and I knew that the children were finished. I
shooed them out of the kitchen and faced the stack of dishes. I had just
plunged my hands into dishwater when a knock sounded at the door.
"Mama!" Jackson called.
"It's Mrs. Crowe!"
"Shh!" My natural reply
came. "And don't stare out the windows." I rapidly dried my hands on
my skirt and glanced around the room before opening the door. I couldn't hide
the toys that littered the room nor the girls' hair that was no longer tied
back neatly. Maybe Mrs. Crowe didn't intend to come in.
"I know I'm probably
disrupting your busy day," Mrs. Crowe said in a low, calm voice. "But
I saw you looked a little overwhelmed earlier and just wanted to bring you a
little something." She held out two trays. I took them and chomped down on
my pride and invited her in. She had several children--surely she would
understand the mess.
The children were amazingly quiet
as I led Mrs. Crowe into the kitchen. "May I get you some coffee?
Tea?"
"No thank you. Can I give the
children some cookies?"
"Sure." I placed the
trays on the table and turned back to my dishes. Mrs. Crowe's presence had a
calming affect--both on me and on the children. When cookies were being
enjoyed, she sat down at the table.
"Don't you just love
Thanksgiving time?" Mrs. Crowe's voice was full of cheeriness.
Dirty dishes, Christmas lists,
dishes that needed to be baked, and unruly children flashed through my mind.
"No ma'am, not really," I replied honestly.
Mrs. Crowe chuckled. "Oh
you'll love these memories one day--but don't wait until they're memories to
enjoy them!"
"It must be easier for you to
stop and be grateful now, though," I said, "without so many pressing
needs." The whole time I reprimanded my thoughtless tongue--because maybe
she was missing those "pressing needs" that her husband and child had
given her.
"I have been where you
are," Mrs. Crowe said, a smile still in her voice. "I spent almost
every season in terror of the things needing to be done rather than enjoying--savoring--the
moments."
I paused in my washing. "What
changed? Having your children grown?"
"No," Mrs. Crowe
answered. "The Lord showed me that I was spending my time complaining
about things that were hidden blessings."
My puzzled look made Mrs. Crowe
laugh.
"For example, when I
complained about my workload, I forgot that if I were single or childless, I
wouldn't have my loved ones to create that workload. In fact, even my workload
was a blessing--because I had dishes to
wash, food to eat, and a house that could be made dirty."
I looked down at the egg-remains
from Emma's spoiled pecan pie. There was wisdom in this older woman's words.
After Mrs. Crowe's short visit, my
brain did double-time in thinking. Maybe I could have the joys of a no-mess
Thanksgiving...but it would come at the cost of a no-child Thanksgiving. Did I
really want that?
My dishes were not quite done when
Jackson clambered up to me again. "Mommy, now can we finish my cornbread?"
I looked down at my son. This time,
instead of seeing an annoying child, I saw a young man in the making. In just a
few years, he would not need me to help steady his hand while I poured milk
into the measuring cup. A smile came more easily onto my lips. "Why don't
you help me put away these dishes then we can do it.
"And my pie?" Emma's
question sounded a little timid, as if she was ashamed of the mess she had made
earlier. I would rather have to clean up all of her messes than not have this
precious girl by my side.
"As soon as Jackson's finished,
yes."
Emma clapped her hands and beside
her, Joy mimicked her.
"An' my sweet 'tato
roll?" Joy's lisp made her words hard to understand, but I knew she was
talking about the sugary sweet potato casserole that Ryan loved. It wouldn't
phase me if the dish never made it to the table, but now I realized I was
grateful that the Lord had given me another year with my husband who loved this
recipe.
The day's busyness never eased and
my patience was not always abounding, but when bedtime came, I could look at
each little face and relish the blessings that I had because of them. Sure,
they had left me a mountain of dishes to wash instead of spending the last hour
of my evening relaxing with my husband, but it gave me time to search for those
hidden blessings Mrs. Crowe had mentioned. I had a home, a kitchen, dishes,
food, a husband, children, ability to work, and a friend who reminded me of
these wonderful blessings. My list was not checked off, but now that seemed so
small compared to the massive blessings God had given me that day--all of the
laughter, the happiness, the family time. I looked forward to the day when my
children were not all underfoot, but there was a bit of me that loved today,
when they relied on me for everything. The hidden blessings of the day
blossomed into a bouquet of fragrant gratitude and I was able to rest my head
after the long day, truly ready for Thanksgiving.
