November 24, 2017
It will be a different Thanksgiving this year.
Today we will be wearing pajamas to our Thanksgiving dinner. In memory of Doug’s little brother, Steve.
Last Thanksgiving, Steve, Hillary, and their three kids spent a relaxed and happy day of playing games and eating turkey in their pjs, just the five of them. That night, Steve suddenly died in his sleep.
The news was shocking and rending, heavy and hard. Hard for all of us, but incomparably hard for his sweet family who were living in Pennsylvania with no extended family close by.
I remember Doug’s phone ringing, waking us in the early morning of Black Friday. What he heard on the line blackened the day to be sure. It was almost impossible to believe. Hours earlier Doug had been prepping our turkey, dough was rising, and I was writing my post for Segullah, talking about how we are happier when conscious of our treasures. Little did we know, that night one of our dearest treasures would be taken from us.
More at Segullah today. About Steve, my Mom, and mending gaps, repairing breaches before the opportunity is gone. And if there is no gap to be mended, a thought about holding those relationships close.
Today I am breathing in the scent of my children’s hair and skin, the feel of my husband next to me in the kitchen, the simple joys of food on our table, orange berries ablaze on the firethorn bushes outside, and the comfort of pajamas.
Grateful for you, dear readers. And for Jesus, who makes all mending possible. Who teaches us how to love.
Happy Thanksgiving.
