What I Needed this Thanksgiving

thanksgiving sign kid art.jpg

Yesterday my eldest was out woodworking in the shop with Daddy. When she came in, cheeks pink with cold, she wore a sneaky grin and had something stuffed underneath her teal jacket. She informed me it was a Thanksgiving present. I wondered where the idea of Thanksgiving presents suddenly came from (maybe accidentally decorating for Christmas last week has us all a little confused) but no matter.

Ellis has been particularly focused on the idea of giving this fall, and I love seeing her heart translate into thinking about others. She’s picked out thoughtful birthday presents, colored pictures and cards to share, and given away toys and clothes. In short – she’s turning out to be much better than me at the important art of giving.

Meanwhile, I stood behind the kitchen counter, chunks of hair wildly escaping my haphazard top knot. It was 5:13 pm, the house was in disarray, and supper still seemed miles away. So when Ellis asked me for wrapping paper, I felt like crumpling in ball. Dramatic, I know. Wrapping paper for a present is a reasonable request. But it also meant going down to the basement, clearing off the table, getting out the paper and wrapping supplies, and then fielding what was sure to be a four-child endeavor in wrapping heaven-knows-what they found in the basement while wielding scissors and tangling tape and arguing over what color bow was going on each gift.

Admittedly, this is where my mind goes with most requests I get from my children. How much will this cost me? How many minutes? How much sanity? How much clean up time?

It’s a mindset of management, but not always of grace.

Meanwhile, we all lumbered down the tricky basement stairs of our old farmhouse and managed to wrap a few presents without poking out anyone’s eyes or accidentally lopping off chunks of hair.

This morning, my present was waiting for me. My daughter handed it to me with excitement and I couldn’t help but be thankful I said yes to yesterday’s wrapping extravaganza.

I pulled open the corners and peeled back the paper to reveal a wooden board with a smaller floor-shim sized board nailed to the center. On one corner of the board was a turkey saying “Hi”; on the other, a sweet to-from inscription. But it was the middle that caught my attention. It was hard to see, but Ellis quickly jumped in to explain that it was one of the turkey’s tail feathers. The turkey had pulled it out himself and given it to me.

I smiled and gave her a hug, complimenting her artistry and sweet cartoon-like sentiments. But I couldn’t stop staring at that picture of the feather.

Whether she meant to or not, my daughter had given me an important reminder of what it meant to give of myself. It was less about buying a solution, more about digging deep to provide. Less about counting the cost, more about giving gratefully from the heart.

It was a reminder I deeply needed.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. We have been given much, and we have much to be grateful for.

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