In past turkey days, I'd like to think I've always had a lot of gratitude. Every year, I look at my family members, thankful to be a part of who we are despite how crazy we can be. I reflect on what I have, feeling blessed and wholesome. The thoughts that come to mind in anticipation when I think about Thanksgiving come to life.
But this year was different. It was a lot different.
My family stayed home, just the four of us. At one point, it was actually three of us. My sister split her time between our family and her new in-laws. While we waited for her, I actually sat down to watch football. We ate together later on after she came home, and the usual turkey was replaced with scallops (I didn't mind this change). But when we ate, a strange silence filled the room. There was no long, busy dining room table. There weren't many jokes made. My dad drank milk with dinner. That might have been one of the weirder parts.
This year was our first Thanksgiving without my grandfather, who we called Pe (my cousin couldn't pronounce 'Grampie' to the fullest as a child). He passed two months ago after an incredible ninety-seven years of life. Although his legacy was long and filled with accomplishments, it made for a holiday with a lot of missing pieces. My preferred Thanksgiving Day plans were shifted. I wouldn't hear his deep, but gentle voice let out corny one-liners:
"I've got a good one - an Irish man walks out of a bar."
I already miss that.
There are a lot of things I've found myself missing this year, and if I'm being quite blunt, I haven't been all that thankful. Thanksgiving was definitely different, but the rest of my life has been too. I've spent more time mourning the past than celebrating the present or looking toward the future. I consumed a lot of time reflecting on this realization last Thursday, and it reminded me of a quote I fell in love with in college:
"Gratitude turns what we have into enough."
Remembering this sent conviction into my core as I thought about how much I've just been craving more out of life, as if it owes me something, as if life itself isn't enough. I've spent a lot of time wishing for what I once had instead of focusing on what I have now. But wishing hasn't fixed anything. The hard truth is, wishing Pe was at the table that day wouldn't bring him back. Missing my sister and closest friends in other states hasn't brought them back to New England. Longing for the love I once experienced hasn't made Prince Charming magically appear at my doorstep. Waiting for the future wouldn't make it come any more quickly. Imagining my dream job hasn't gotten me the next diploma. Desiring a different Molly hasn't changed her for the better. All of this has only made me feel more empty.
Processing this has led me to one, challenging question: if I lived with more gratitude, would what I have be enough?
In the last few days, I've made an effort to reverse every longing thought into one of thankfulness. As I pondered this last night, I thought my heart was going to explode. Over and over again, I thought of everything and everyone I've been blessed with, and I despised myself for ever thinking it wasn't enough. The fact of the matter is, I have more than enough. And I'm grateful.
I'm grateful for the big, loud, crazy family I was born into. Every uncle, every aunt, every cousin, regardless of how well we get along. In you I see myself.
I'm grateful for parents who have provided me with everything I need and incomparable support. I'm grateful they've taken me back in with open arms while I'm in grad school. I'm grateful for the kindness and child-like optimism I got from my mom, and the extroversion and love of sports I got from my dad.
I'm grateful for my grandmothers and Poppa, who all have the ability to warm me up with their adorable laughter or tear me up with wisdom I could write a book with.
I'm grateful for Pe, for the ninety-seven years he had, for the family he raised, and for the legacy and memories he left behind for all of us to carry.
I'm grateful for a sister who lives in Hawaii, because she's finally able to be with the love of her life - or the brother-in-law that I now have. I'm grateful for the surprise in her coming home for three months. I'm grateful for the times we were able to share under the same roof, dancing in the kitchen and whispering when we were supposed to be sleeping. I'm grateful that after being born fourteen weeks early at one pound, six ounces, she made it. I can't imagine life without you.
I'm grateful for my best friends - near and far. I would be absolutely lost without them.
I'm grateful that Avery and Amanda are in different states, because it only means they've begun their own adventures that will only take them to where they want to be. I'm grateful for the partners in crime they've been since 4th grade, the level of weirdness I can reach with them and only them, and that I was lucky enough to score the find-one-get-one-free best friend deal.
I'm grateful that Emily is in Nashville, where she can experience a year of firsts with her new husband, who is really cool, by the way (looking at you, Will - grateful for you too). I'm grateful for the fact that we can tell each other everything, from our deepest pains to the juicy secrets we once giggled on our beds about, and the countless letters on monogrammed stationary I've collected from her.
I'm grateful that Tara is in Los Angeles, where she is living out her mission to bring light to a broken world. I'm grateful for her serious side and silly side, that she encourages me to write more and is always up for a dance party in the car.
I'm grateful that Bonnie recently gave birth to an absolutely perfect and healthy bundle of joy. I'm grateful for the sleepless nights we had freshman year giggling about nothing. I'm grateful that she was the roommate who became one of my most cherished friendships.
Even though they're far away doesn't mean I don't have them anymore. Our friendships spread wider than the miles that separate us.
I'm grateful for the friends who are near me. For Errin, our eighteen-year friendship, the fact that she's just always been there, how silly we get, and our mutual love of cupcakes and wine. For Kailyn, the faith and strength she's modeled for me, the four graduation caps she's worn with me, all the shirts she's let me blow my snot on, and her creativity in finding free yet enjoyable activities (homemade pasta sauce). For Caitie and her impossible way of empathizing with absolutely anything I'm going through, the quirky yet perfect gifts she's given me, and our shared affinity for elf culture. For Amanda and Janine, their 100% success rate at making me laugh until I start developing a six-pack, and willingness to watch vines for over an hour.
I'm grateful that I'm only ninety minutes away from the shore I fell in love with. For 19 Atlantic Road, Good Harbor Beach, Applebee's runs, Ocean Lawn, drinks at Soma, half off burgers at Fibber McGee's, Plum, Cabot Street, and trips into Boston. I'm grateful for all the people who are there when I come back. For Rachel, her contagious laugh, her knack for adventure and spontaneity, and the way she appreciates how weird I am. For Sarah and Amanda, the old coworkers who became friends and show me daily how to be a world-changing social worker. For Rebecca and Elizabeth, the roommates who turned into the people I can always count on for a girl's night out in heels or a cozy night in with (satin) pajamas. For Bailey, who I grew up with yet didn't get to know until she moved to Massachusetts. I'm grateful for her way of always initiating time together and absolutely hilarious way of telling stories.
I'm grateful for my bros, who show me daily that trusting, God-loving, selfless men actually do still exist. For Alex, his kind heart that heart breaks over the hurts of his friends, sense of humor, and understanding of what it means to be a pumpkin. For Brett, his constant availability to talk whenever you need to, his impeccable taste in music, and our tradition of shotgunning beers. For Thad, his unfailing selflessness and hospitality, his heart for service, and the new puppy he's provided us with. For Jake, his genuine appreciation for his friends, and the voicemails he leaves me after a few drinks. For Cody, his willingness to ask the tough questions, and the ridiculous stories that are always sure to provide entertainment. You are all a space I feel safe in. Thank you.
I'm grateful for The Harbor community, Neil Hubacker, and John Prickett for providing a space to make my faith my own at a place that feels like home to me. I'm grateful for each and every single college student there, who I've grown to love like younger brothers and sisters, and the mentors who I've grown to appreciate like older ones. When I ask myself how my faith became what it is, you are all the reasons why.
I'm grateful for Lifesong, for providing me with new friends and a church community I honestly didn't think I would find.
I'm grateful for Gordon, the faith-based education I was incredibly lucky to have, the community that gave me the best four years of my life and the friendships that will last a lifetime.
I'm grateful for Rhode Island College, who by a miracle agreed to give me my Master's degree. I'm grateful for understanding yet challenging professors and hilarious classmates who persevere through the workload with me. I'm grateful that day by day, they are becoming my friends.
I'm grateful for my bosses, George and Helen. I'm grateful that they've provided me with a job and a little bit of income while I work through school. I'm grateful for the life lessons they offer when the restaurant slows down, and for their pizza.
I'm grateful for the big things. For the ocean and how small it makes me feel, for the stars and how I see God in a moonlit sky. For the quiet town I grew up in. For my health and education. For laughing and for crying. For the fact that I can live without the fear of danger or the risk of persecution for expressing my faith. For knowing what it is to be loved.
I'm grateful for the little things. For dogs, photographs, words, cheeseburgers, coffee, journals, over-sized sweaters, heels, crunchy cheetos, glasses of red wine, guitars, holding babies, dancing, adventuring new places, comfy beds, the Today Show, the Red Sox, Patriots, and Duke Blue Devils, March madness, and my car, also known as my private concert venue.
I'm grateful for music, for the way it puts into words the things I never know how to say, and the way it forces me to feel. I'm grateful for how many live shows have taken my breath away.
I'm grateful for this season of singleness, and how much time I can devote to my family and friends. I'm grateful for the person who put me in it. If it weren't for him, I never would have known how to turn to God and the people who will never leave in the most gut-wrenching heartbreak I've ever experienced. I never would have known that stronger than a woman who is happy next to a man is a woman who is just as happy on her own.
I'm grateful for life itself, because the fact that I'm sitting here, writing this, breathing in and breathing out, should be enough.
I'm grateful for a loving Father who thinks I'm enough. He doesn't criticize every move I make. He doesn't run out of love for me. He doesn't grade my papers. He rejoices in me: who I was, who I will be, who I am. He's covered me in grace I don't deserve. He speaks to me when I least expect to hear Him. He gave me all of the above, and yet if He took it all away He would provide everything I need. In the darkest, most frightening and vulnerable moments of my life, He was in the room. He's building my houses.
How on earth could I ever for a second want anything more, when I already have more than I ever could have imagined? How could I live in the past when there are already so many people and places that followed me into the present?
I challenge you to write down everyone and everything you're thankful for. It won't be long before you see that you have plenty, right now. Allow it to lessen the amount that you want, and maximize the amount that you give. Let it motivate you to cherish every moment that you're given, even if those moments look differently than you pictured them to be. Accept that life will never be perfect. Take all of the things that you love in your hands, but be willing to let them go. Be where you are. Be present. Be okay.
I truly believe that having gratitude not only turns what we have into enough - it turns who we are into enough.
While I wrote this post, I listened to:
"My Oldest Friend" - Andrew Belle
"Atlas Hands" - Benjamin Francis Leftwich
"Up & Up" - Coldplay
"To Build A Home"- The Cinematic Orchestra
