At 1:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day I went to the apartment of My Joy to take her and her candied sweet potatoes to the home of my grandson to celebrate. I am beginning to remember many reasons to be thankful.
High on my thanksgiving list is my daughter and her husband, Eldon, who provide a home for me to live with her and others of her family. At this time five persons are sheltered in the warmth of their house while outside at this time of year it is usually cold, wet or threatening snow. Behind her in the picture above is a hutch that belonged first to my mother, then to Rhoda, and now to Rachel. The hutch triggered another chain of thoughtful thanksgiving memories. The plates and the gravy holder were a wedding gift to us from Rhoda’s parents, D. Stoner and Frances Krady.
The Mennonite was on the table beside Rachel. It repeated the story of Chester and Sarah Jane Wenger and the marriage of their son to his partner and the prominence given to it by the media.
The Mennonite also published the story of Daniel Shenk in “Dare to be a Daniel” an article written by his sister. I am thankul that The Mennonite can now tell Daniel’s story.
I give thanks for Roberta Showalter Kreider who tried to make known the stories of gays and lesbians by publishing books that told their stories. She believed that people’s minds would be changed about homosexuality by getting to know lesbian and gay people of faith and hearing their stories. She should be honored for her pioneer publishing work. Roberta did then what The Mennonite is doing now.
When My Joy and her candied sweet potatoes and I arrived at Grandson Dan’s house, the name cards were neatly arranged on the plates on the table. I gave thanks for the seventeen persons who gathered round the grandson’s long table. Soon the food from several kitchens was on the table.
Eldon had roasted and carved the turkey. The grandson’s wife, Angela, made the pies: shoo fly, pumpkin, and cherry. She also mashed the potatoes. Conrad’s wife, Jill, the daughter of My Joy, brought the cranberry delicacy.
The turkey “dressing” was passed round the table once, a second time as “filling” and final rounds as “stuffing.”
Thankfully we ate, conversed, and laughed. The children were a year older this year and were seated at the long table, trusted to behave as adults, or nearly so. Blood lines don’t count over much in our family, we all belong.
After the surfeit and the naps My Joy and I were ushered to a car covered by snow. Safe arrival at my Joy’s apartment demanded safe driving. We intended to “fill the cracks” with popcorn, but the snow kept falling and kept us cautions. I didn’t venture indoors till I had arrived safely home from the grandson’s house, still thankful.