The cornbread's baking, the sausage (for the cornbread--southern style, my grandmother's recipe) is frying, D's still asleep, the cat's up and misbehaving, but otherwise it's an incredibly quiet, peaceful Thanksgiving morning. All three children are at their mother's house in City to the South. I wish they were here, but Christmas will be a joyous time all together.
So different from the years and years I spent going to Thanksgiving at the home of some extended family member. They were always gracious to me, but I felt an undercurrent of "poor Katy." Perhaps that was my own stuff. The first Thanksgiving that D and I were married, though, we received no invitation, much to my painful surprise. It took me a while to adjust to that, given all my issues around "family," but now I see it as much better. I'd rather be here with D, just the two of us, than anywhere else.
I'm afraid D might be getting sick. He said last night that his body has taken on all the stress of the last week or so. He's been busy at work, but he mainly means all the hullabaloo at my church. I know it wasn't easy for him to have me come home last Wednesday and cry in his arms for an hour. Sheesh!
I pray he'll wake up feeling much better this morning. (If he's not up to cooking, then I guess I'll have to deal with turkey myself. Which I've done once in my 51 years and as I recall I learned a lot about the strangeness of turkeys that come with their own innards stuffed inside. Weird.)
Best wishes to you all -- I hope it's a wonderful Holiday, full of a special awareness of God's loving presence.