When Thanksgiving felt like Christmas

           "I am thankful for every moment...." -Rev. Al Green (1946-)

Thanksgiving was always just the two of us. My mother and I. Well, the three of us, if you count the turkey.......There was a lot of joy in the day, nothing maybe visible, but there was joy and faith. It wasn't a gushy type of faith. It was constant and quiet and steady.My mother used to say there should be a bit of Christmas in Thanksgiving.

 When I was a child, thanksgiving was a lot about the turkey.  My mother and her turkey.....oh, that turkey....

  Thanksgiving Sunday was THE day of all days. The house had to be scrubbed, the laundry done, the bills paid, and groceries bought. My mother, on a pension, would shop for the BIGGEST and BADDEST turkey she could find.

 For the two of us........go figure.It was usually so big she had to have help getting it into the car. And sometimes at home she had to fortify herself with a cup of strong tea, before she could drag it from the car to the house.

 Thirty five pounds of meals. Made her pension money go farther. Thanksgiving Sunday she would be up at 5 am, sometimes 4:30 am, drinking coffee. Fortifying herself for the STUFFING.  She made enough to  roof a house. Stuffing with raisins, apples, spices, leftover cake, bread, celery, etc. And she'd stuff that turkey and tie it up with cotton twine. (Shades of Mr. Bean come to mind)

 "I am grateful for what I am and have.My thanksgiving is perpetual..." -Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

 The turkey would gain about 5 pounds with the stuffing, and I would have to help her get it into the oven, at around 8 in the morning.The oven would be warming, drying underwear and socks in the heat. When everything was toasty dry THAT was when the turkey could go in.  The oven cavity barely  allowed it room to sit. But sit it did, for something like 7 hours......

 Then it was time for church. My mother would sometimes wear a big black hat. Made her look very mysterious. I remember a few Thanksgivings where she wore high heels. She had quite a few from past years. One pair was made of plastic with shiny beads on the top. Her Cinderella Shoes. My dad bought all her fancy shoes. She kept them all. I used to parade around in them when she wasn't home. (Until I fell one day and fractured my elbow......no music lessons for a few weeks. YAY.)In days gone by, my mother dressed to the nines, when they went  to church. She would dress my dad in a dark grey suit and hat. She always made sure he looked smart. She kept his hat  in the hall closet.Brushed it off once-in-a-while.On holidays she missed him most.

 When we left the house on Thanksgiving morning, she'd stuff towels under the kitchen doors, to keep the kitchen warm. And we'd toddle off to the Presbyterian church, leaving the oven perking away for hours. Returning about 1pm to a house scented with sage and apples. (I don't think I have ever gone out, leaving the oven  on......)

 My job was to set the table with the old china. The same china I have today.For just the two of us. And the best white tablecloth. I often had to iron it right on the table.  At the table, My mother would say a prayer. A silent prayer. Something she never shared with me. I would watch her, when I was supposed to be praying as well. I often wondered if she prayed for my dad.

 Maybe she prayed for me.......

 One year, we dropped the cooked turkey on the kitchen floor. Somehow we managed to get it back onto the pan. I remember my mother fussing, not wanting to waste any of it. Telling me she had just cleaned the floor, and now would have to clean it again...

 My mother and I never had the perfect relationship. I was always challenging for her, I think. My dad had been my hero. She missed him. All the time. My mother was always challenging for me, I must admit. But there we were, two very different people. Still thankful. 

 Years later, when I went away to school, I missed those Thanksgivings. My mother never said much about it, but I know she missed them too. And to this day, I love the fact that Thanksgiving will always feel like Christmas. Wherever you are in the world, with or without the turkey dinner.
      Those  Thanksgivings so long ago, when I was not at home,and time had changed many things,  I can imagine my mother still sitting down to say one of her silent prayers......

       "God says to give thanks in everything..."
                                 - Rev. Tony Evans (1949-1992)

Photographs 2018