Thanksgiving was not what I expected this year. Maybe I should rephrase that. The meal itself was what I expected. Glenn deep fried the turkey, because I'm not even sure the 17 pound bird would fit into the oven. We had the usual side dishes of squash, stuffing and cranberry sauce, and had one heck of a time, my mother and I, in the kitchen trying to prepare the sides while Glenn tried to cut the turkey. We were closer than sardines in a can, bumping butts to get by each other to grab dishes from the white cabinet.
I remember last year. We had Thanksgiving at our old home, and I used my China plates and silverware. We were celebrating the fact that my father was alive, strong, and feeling good despite the liver cancer that was trying to take him out.
This year, we celebrated again that Dad was with us, kicking cancer, and believing God for a total miracle. We are SO thankful to have him around the table again this year!
Compared to having my dad still alive, not being able to use my China plates sounds petty. But, I'll be honest. A part of me was embarrassed. All of my good "stuff" was 45 minutes away in a friend's shed. I was here, in this shack, with my husband, daughter, mom, dad and brother, Paul.
The small space took its toll, and my family ended up leaving a day early. It was hard to not feel hurt that they were leaving. But, I had to understand that small spaces are not good for men who have their own ways of thinking and doing things. I love my husband and my dad. I do NOT love the small space that we live in.
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