giving thanks in feast or fallow.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Don't get me wrong, Christmas and Easter get their shine. I love observing Advent with my family and friends, and Easter is always a joyous celebration of Christ's resurrection. But just for this week, can we let Thanksgiving have its moment?

A Case for Thanksgiving

In no particular order, here is my defense of why Thanksgiving is truly the best holiday:

• It occurs during my favorite season of the year--fall.
• It's also during my favorite month of the year--November.
• It centers around the table, my favorite place to be with the ones I love.
• There's not too much expected of you, outside of preparing/enjoying a meal.
• It is somewhat predictable. There are traditions around food, what we eat, who makes (or doesn't) make each dish, who carves the turkey, who does dishes, who's in charge of the playlist, what games we play after dinner. It's like a play we put on each year, and everyone knows their role. Supporting cast members may phase in and out, but the ensemble remains the same.
• And lastly...Fall Sangria. Need I say more?

On a more serious note, I love this holiday's focus on thankfulness. As we go into Christmas season, it's so easy to get caught up in focusing on what we want or think we need, and how much of ourselves and our resources we are willing to give away--not only to our loved ones, but also to those in need. Even when you're intentionally avoiding consumerist aspects of Christmas, there's still a pull towards the crazy. At Thanksgiving we have a chance to get still and take a few moments to reflect on all we have to be grateful for. Each year after dinner we go around the table and share one thing for which we give thanks. Everyone, young and old, share things great and small--healing after a health scare, restored relationships, new jobs, and furry family additions.

I know our family is unique, and our close relationship is not everyone's experience with their family of origin. But for me, Thanksgiving is home. It's leggings-for-pants and a comfy, cozy, well-worn sweater. It's Dad's fried turkey, Mama's collard greens and dressing, my cousin's baked macaroni, and my grandma's field peas. It's the debate over whether we need cornbread and cornbread dressing (the answer is always yes). It's me complaining about having to make sweet potato casserole yet again, but then secretly loving that it is usually the first dish to be polished off by hungry mouths.

Empty Plates, Empty Seats

Last Thanksgiving was our first without Xavier, but in so many ways his absence feels more tangible this year. This time last year I was mourning the loss of our son and grieving the fact that I wasn't pregnant anymore. Had I carried to term, Xavier would've been born this February so he technically wouldn't have been at the table with us last year. But this week, goodness do I miss my boy. I hate that he won't be seated at the table with us this year, strapped in a high chair wearing a cute Thanksgiving bib. I hate that we won't have a plate set for him with bite-sized pieces of our traditional Thanksgiving meal. There won't be a mess to clean up off of the floor beneath a highchair in my mother's dining room. Instead of our family of three piling into a guest room equipped with a pack and play, we'll only need a room for the two of us.

Though our plates will be full of decadent foods and flavors, his will be empty.  With Thursday on the horizon, I wonder will my favorite holiday be redeemed, or will it always be a painful reminder of the one person who won't be coming home for dinner? How can I still give thanks when Xavier is not here to take his seat? When Paul wrote in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 that we are to "give thanks in all circumstances," surely he didn't mean to include infant loss, did he? How can two diametrically opposed ideas exist simultaneously: Joy and pain? Laughter and sorrow? Feast and famine?

The Joy of the Cross

The beauty of the cross makes all of this possible. Through Christ's sacrifice and redeeming love, I know wrongs will be made right, and light will always conquer darkness. He stays close to me, giving me the grace I need for each day. The thankfulness I hold in one hand does not negate or dismiss the sorrow I hold in the other. But like sugar in greens, or the pinch of salt in the sweet potatoes, the joy of the Cross cuts through the pain of death.

And so I give thanks for Xavier, for he made me a mama. I give thanks for his father, who has taken the best care of me in my darkest of moments. I give thanks for my supportive family and friends, who have grieved along side me. The Lord has provided so many relationships this year and has pulled me out of myself in order to reach out to others consumed with sorrow and fear. With sweet tenderness, He's taken sickle to this fallow ground.  Though I can't see all the fruit of the harvest, I know the seeds have been sown. I know He is good. I know what I am assured of by His Word. I know he will never withhold himself from me.

I find rest in this truth alone: That He is for me, and that He will never leave me empty of his love.

In the harvest feast or the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
Whatever comes, we shall endure

--Sandra McCracken, "In Feast or Fallow"