Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

Thanksgiving

How to Live in This Season

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Thanksgiving arrives next week, and along with roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie will come a cacophony of Black Friday and Cyber Monday ads, crowded malls, snarled traffic and a to-do list the length of the Magna Carta.

Truth be told, most years my home is stripped of autumnal décor and festooned in evergreen garland and sparkly white lights before the Thanksgiving dinner dishes are dry. Every year I aim to “get a jump on Christmas,” and if my holiday shopping isn’t finished by Thanksgiving Day, I consider myself “behind.”

I suspect I’m not alone in this. Our go-go-go culture insists that rather than fully experiencing the present season, we hurry on to the next one. Nowhere do we see this message play out more clearly than in retail stores. Beginning the day after Halloween, Jack-O-Lanterns, creepy costumes and bite-sized KitKats are whisked from displays, replaced with shiny tinsel, red and green wrapping paper and Elves on the Shelves. By the time dusk falls on Thanksgiving evening, the message is as loud and incessant as the carols blaring from every local radio station:

There’s no time to linger over a second slice of pie as the candles burn low.

There’s no time to stroll beneath a canopy of russet oak leaves, the November sun still warm on our shoulders.

There’s no time to relish the gifts of Thanksgiving – family and friends gathered, gratitude, good food, leftovers (and more leftovers) — when there’s a fence to drape in icicle lights, cards to sign and envelopes to address, presents to purchase and wrap and Nutcracker performances to attend.

Or is there?

This year, I’d like to suggest a different way.

Rather than succumbing to society’s relentless siren’s song compelling us toward what’s next, might we practice being present in this moment, in this day and in this season of Thanksgiving?

Rather than heeding our culture’s call to more, bigger, faster and busier, might we lean more fully into the rhythms of the present season and listen to the call of own souls?

It could be that you don’t know what fully embracing the rhythms of this season looks like. When we are in the habit of living with our hearts, minds and souls fixed on what’s next, we often struggle to recognize what brings us life right now.

If that’s the case, think about the kinds of activities that bring you satisfaction and joy and allow you to feel most like your deepest, truest self.

It might be something as simple as watching the chickadees and the cardinals at the feeder outside your window.

Or enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee and a quiet conversation with a good friend.

It could be cooking a satisfying meal for someone you love, or taking a walk, not to burn off last night’s extra-generous slice of pumpkin pie, but simply to notice and appreciate the remnants of autumn’s colors.

Our culture continually calls us to what’s next and woos us with the false idea that there is something better around the next bend. It demands that we do more, be more and buy more. It fuels our fear that who we already are and what we already have are not enough.

Our souls, on the other hand, call us to fully experience and relish in what is right now.

The many gifts of this present season are readily available to us. If we rush by in our haste to get to the next thing, we will miss them altogether.

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Hey friends, just a quick note to remind you that my next book, True You: Letting Go of Your False Self to Uncover the Person God Created, is available for pre-order. And to sweeten the deal, I have some really wonderful free gifts for you — a downloadable True You companion journal, a guided audio meditation and a set of beautifully designed Scripture memorization cards — if you pre-order before January 1. All the details are OVER HERE. Thank you so much for your support!

A Prayer as We Come Together for Thanksgiving

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A Prayer for Your Thanksgiving

Every Thanksgiving, as the turkey sizzles and browns in the oven and that savory smell begins to fill the house, I am reminded of the Thanksgivings of my childhood.

We typically spent the day at my paternal grandparents’ house. My grandfather was the cook, an apron tied around his wide girth, apple, pumpkin and mincemeat pies cooling on the laminate, gravy bubbling in the roasting pan.

In the “front room,” where the dining table was positioned under the back window, I set out the silver and china with Nana, straightening the pilgrim figurines and lighting the candles that flanked the floral cornucopia.

I have fond memories of those Thanksgiving gatherings. But I also recall that sometimes, after we’d scraped the last bit of pie and cool whip from our dessert plates and pushed back our chairs from the table, my father and his father would argue.

It was generally harmless — argument is an accepted mode of dialogue for we DeRushas — but occasionally the tone would shift and the debate would grow more serious, particularly when the topic of conversation was politics. I remember more than one tense conversation as dusk fell and the shadows lengthened and the last sips of coffee cooled in the bottoms of my parents’ and grandparents’ china teacups.

This week, as we gather with our familes and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving, I can’t help but remember some of those heated conversations from years ago. I think about the agitated, tumultuous state of our country, and I am afraid of how that unrest might play out in dining rooms, kitchens and living rooms across America.

Tensions are running high. We will undoubtedly pass the cranberry sauce to someone who voted differently from us, the basket of rolls to someone who disagrees with our political leanings, the stuffing to someone who feels pretty bent out of shape about the state of America right now (and maybe that person is you).

As we preheat our ovens and roll out our pie crusts, we’d all do well to dust off our Lamaze and perhaps recite the serenity prayer a few (hundred) times.

This Thanksgiving more than any in recent memory seems to be a time that calls for prayer. In light of that, I offer these words to you and your loved ones as you come to the table together this year:

 

Gracious God,

We are feeling weary, fragile, a little bit like we’re walking on egg shells.

We are afraid of saying the wrong thing or not saying anything, of saying too little or saying too much.

We are feeling like there is a lot at stake.

May you guide us toward peace and harmony as we come to the table with our loved ones.

May you open our eyes to the small gifts offered by each person in our midst and fill our hearts with gratitude and joy.

May you help us see beauty and goodness — the image of You — even in those with whom we disagree.

Help us be listeners.

Help us be open.

Help us be kind and compassionate.

Help us be love.

Amen.

On Loss: Thanksgiving without a Loved One

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I leaned against the doorframe and surveyed the dim kitchen. Spotless countertops.  Pans tucked into cupboards. Unused wooden spoons, spatulas and ladles poised in the pitcher by the stove. A stack of stained potholders and oven mitts sat untouched in the drawer. Pizza boxes and paper plates were heaped in the trashcan, remnants of supper the night before.

Our family had eaten Thanksgiving dinner at my brother- and sister-in-law’s house earlier that afternoon. We didn’t speak of it much, but all of us were keenly aware of my mother-in-law’s glaring absence. She had died in September. This was our first Thanksgiving without her.

…I’m writing about walking through grief during the holidays over at The High Calling today. Join me there? 

Thanksgiving Break

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Hello, friends. Just a little note to say that I am taking a bit of a break this week for Thanksgiving. The Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday community will return next Monday. In the meantime, may you enjoy this week of giving thanks with your loved ones, may you experience God’s presence in your everyday and may you enjoy many kinds of pie. 

Thank you for being…you!

I love this Wendell Berry poem, and it feels Novemberish to me…so I thought I’d include it here.

 


The Wild Geese
Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer’s end. In time’s maze
over the fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed’s marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
 
And just in case you’re wondering…why yes I am still keeping a gratitude list!

 

 
 
1265 Great Grandma Hilma’s donut recipe
1266 Hairdresser attentively and gently cutting the elderly man’s hair
1267 Rowan snuggling in the morning in front of the heat grate
1268 Osage oranges on the ground
1269 Afternoon sunlight on the dishrack
1270 Pumpkin cornbread
1271 Peppermint mochas with Noah
1275 Busy husband fixing things
 

Peace and joy, friends! See you next week…

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