Thanksgiving

I opened the door of my bedroom on Friday morning to the smell of turkey working holiday magic in the hallway. Heather and I had stuffed and salted the bird and tucked him in the oven the night before for our Friday evening Thanksgiving celebration, and now the smell confirmed that the slow roast was indeed in process.

We had invited many friends and families to our celebratory feast, but it was hard to find people who were willing and free. By the time the doorbell was ringing and the turkey was coming out of the oven, our numbers had settled at five children and five adults. Before we could eat, there was that jolly moment of steam and sizzle: I pulled the turkey out of the oven, temperature checked and approved, to unstuff and carve (I felt like Dad as I sliced into the breast, dug out stuffing, popped off the leg and fingered the dark meat onto the platter, but no one came to reach over my shoulder and snitch bits of crunchy skin). Taline poured the drippings from the turkey so Heather could make the gravy, and then washed whatever dishes she could find. We found serving dishes and spoons, reheated the sweet potatoes when Denise arrived with them in tow, sliced Karen's cornbread, and tasted and re-tasted spoonfuls of potatoes and gravy.

The kids (4 and under) ate in the kitchen and then went to the playroom to frolic (under the watchful eye of Zoey, a 10-year-old neighbor who came over to help with the little ones)vwhile the five women joined around the white linen and china in the dining room. We hailed from the US, Germany, and Brazil, but all alike reveled in moist turkey, savory stuffing, creamy sweet potatoes with crunchy brown sugar-pecan topping, cranberry chutney, gravy, mashed potatoes, green salad, cornbread. We got better acquainted with one another and shared stories of God's faithfulness and lingered while the candles burned low.

Then, all at once, the children emerged, people started looking at watches, and we knew it must be time for pie! The kitchen was a hub of activity as we looked for counter space to pile with more dishes and packaged leftovers for freezer, fridge, and for sending home with our friends. When the coffee was ready, Heather dished narrow slices of apple and pumpkin pie for each of us and topped them with freshly whipped cream.

Heather read Psalm 100 as the prelude to our dessert, and it was the perfect last bite for the day. Karen and Taline left to catch their buses, and Heather offered to take Denise and her two children home so they wouldn't have to take the long U-Bahn trip home when it was already late for the little ones. I tucked our own little ones into bed; it was almost 10 by the time their lights were off, and I think they were all quite ready for sleep. In the kitchen again, I turned on Andrew Peterson and enjoyed making sense out of the chaos there, setting all to rights. Heather returned home and joined me, and when the dishwasher was running and the crystal glasses turned upside down to dry on a dishtowel and the table was shiny and empty, we, too, were ready for bed.