Thanksgiving. Looking back, I don’t have many specific memories from this holiday. We did not have immediate family who would come over. We sometimes would have people over from church but I don’t recall that happening frequently or consistently over the years. I remember watching the Macy’s Day Parade while my Mom made a lattice top cherry pie. My parents would wrestle with the turkey: aka, fill the inside of the bird with stuffing. There was the disgusting broccoli and pearl onion casserole. Eww. No thank you. I tried to make my plate look too full by the time that casserole got passed my way. And the canned cranberry sauce. It was almost a game of what does not belong. Everything was homemade except for the cranberry sauce as it jiggled out of the can directly onto a serving plate. Canned ridges and all. Like blasphemy in a can on our homemade food table. We would have a kernel of corn on our plate so we could say what we were thankful for. According to my Mom, we should be thankful because there were starving children across the world and we were not. Nothing like a giant slice of guilt to go with my turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes and stuffing. But as I look back even to more recent years, I am thankful for my family and all the ebbs and flows we have endured. Life is messy and complicated and add people and various experiences and the baggage we all carry and it’s bound to be a glorious shit show. So this Thanksgiving, let us offer each other and ourselves grace. Jesus didn’t come into the world because people had it all figured out. 

So tomorrow is surgery. ‘Twas the night before surgery: my mind is determined, my body is prepared, my family and friends are at the ready. But I would be lying to you if I said this was an easy week. Far from it. I really wish I could say I have been counting my blessings or working on my gratitude list or even in some pseudo zen-like state, especially as we enter the Thanksgiving week, but no. I was in tears most of Monday and Tuesday. I was snippy and on edge. I was envious and angry. Really, really angry. So I cried, did some therapeutic screaming in my car, went shopping, listened to music, exercised, cried some more and worked to come back to my baseline. And I have settled. My situation still sucks but choosing to work through my mountains of emotions has left me in a place of surrendered peace. I keep thinking of Bob Marley’s song “Three Little Birds”: don’t worry about a thing, cause everything little thing is gonna be alright. Peace. It WILL all be ok. Peace. My kids and Chris will be loved and helped by so many. Peace. 

So guys, peace and grace. (It is the season to add one of my favorite movie quotes: Grace! Grace died thirty-years-ago. They want you to say THE BLESSING). And yes, I’m probably the pot calling the kettle black about grace. My neuropathy has continued to be an issue for me. My fingertips are numb. My feet are numb, specifically my toes and the balls of my feet. And now I am adding an ostomy bag. The fine motor will be a struggle but I will adjust. I will work and conscientiously decide to give myself grace for this next stage of treatment. And like a friend encouraged me, my ostomy bag will soon become a routine just like putting on my socks. My road to perfect health is getting closer after this major surgery tomorrow. I’m excited! 

For God has not given us a spirit of timidity but of power, love and self-discipline. 
2 Timothy 1:7

Liz