We Gather
The simple beauty of Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving has never been my favorite holiday, but as I get older, I find myself anticipating the day more each year.
Following the wild ride that is October and ushering in the hectic holiday season, Thanksgiving is a respite, a time to slow down, gather with family and friends, savor good food, and rest. It’s a beautifully simple holiday, with relatively little expectation attached to it.
Every year, the four of us wake early to run our neighborhood Turkey Trot, then curl up on the couch to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and eat pie. Afterward, we join my parents and brother’s family at one of our homes for dinner, followed by football-watching as we clutch our full stomachs. Sometimes, we’ll watch a holiday flick. Later, after we’ve returned to our homes, a nap ensues (for me, anyway).
It’s one of the few days of the year where I’m not focused on my to-do list, or which kid I need to pick up when in between work meetings, or the projects I’ve been ignoring. I’m fully present, enjoying every moment with my loved ones.
In planning Thanksgiving this year (we’re hosting at our house), I recalled a poem I wrote last November in Callie Feyen’s “Heart to Page” workshop — an enumeration of the many ways we gather to celebrate, learn, worship, and be with our people — and wanted to share.
How We Gather
We are passive participants in our first gathering, the one that brings us into the world after a cosmic coming together of cells. We blink in wonder at the new world around us, as loved ones gaze downward, in awe of the beautiful creature who just arrived.
We gather our dolls for tea parties, our action figures for epic battles, around puzzles and board games, learning as we play.
We gather around the table for meals, to blow out candles and celebrate, in classrooms to expand our worlds, on the playground to find our people, on the sports field or bleachers, energy emanating through the soft grass and hard seats.
We gather at community events, with arms raised at church, staring at the sky as fireworks explode overhead, around the fire, swapping ghost stories, in long amusement park lines, buzzing with anticipation, by the pool to seek relief from the summer heat.
We gather around screens, as news unfolds, with posters and chants to make our voices heard, to seek strength in numbers and leave our legacies.
We gather at the office, around the proverbial water cooler, on conference calls, staring at one another from our tiny boxes, in meetings, where we dream of being elsewhere.
We gather to watch the newlyweds sway through their first dance, to shower the mother-to-be with gifts and words of wisdom.
We gather over coffee, tea, wine, spilling our secrets and fears, and during trying times, when we gather just to gather, because it’s the only thing to do.
We gather at the bed of the ill. Later, if we are so lucky, we are surrounded by those we love most, as they gather, knowing our end is near.
Finally, we find ourselves passive participants again, as those we know gather to pay their last respects, celebrate our lives, and mourn our passing.
We return to dust, tiny particles gathered for eternity.
One more thing…
I’m also excited to share this essay, published last week on Her View From Home. I suspect many of you will relate!
