Dear friends, Thanksgiving has come and gone. Ours was a smaller gathering this year but still we were surrounded by beautiful people, and one entirely delectable pie. She took my breath away, as always.
As we crowded into Mother’s tiny kitchen, filled with the aroma of a Southern feast—cornbread dressing, roasted turkey, pot-roast, carrots, scalloped potatoes, corn casserole, sweet potatoes, macaroni-and-cheese, pinto beans, and turnip greens—we joined hands in prayer, thanking God for his undeserved blessings and for the gift of each other.
Later, as I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, I looked at my parents’ home and considered all that has occurred in this house, in this yard, in the last four decades. Yes, the kitchen is still too small, and the stove is still harvest gold, but the memories made inside its four walls have lasted a lifetime.
There are times when we long to have more in our lives—a new stove, a bigger kitchen—but when we look fully at what we have, we often realize we have need of nothing. All we need, we already have.
Until next time, dear friends, I've been captivated by the shades of autumn that have trickled down our way. The neighborhood is alive with color. The next few days will find me attempting to ready my home for the Christmas season. Fingers crossed that I can get ‘er done.
Linking up with Laura Boggess