How I feel about not going home this Thanksgiving.

When the sojourn feels like it’s been too long, it’s probably just beginning.

It has been many moons since I last posted. I must admit that it’s been hard to make updates a priority with my rapidly shifting schedule. As I sit on the eve of my favorite holiday, with more spare time on my hands than I know what to do with, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing for the coming seasons and the desire to get it out of my heart and on to the page.

When I get into moods like this I generally go on long drives, sing, and write in my journal. But tonight, I feel the need to be known. I hope others can relate.

This is my first Thanksgiving apart from my kin in Washington. It has been heart-wrenching. After spending a summer in exile (Alaska), I really thought that I would have eventually been able to make up for lost time. “Eventually” hasn’t come, and it doesn’t look like it will be any time soon.

I’ve been taught that if I sow in this season it will bring a generous harvest. I believe it to be true but sometimes it’s hard to remember when it seems like everyone around me is reaping while I’m still breaking soil. Do you ever have those moments? Do you ever find yourself covered in sweat and dirt, wistfully forcing a smile, in celebration, for the friend who is feasting? I do, all the time.

On July 23rd, I had one of those moments. I sat in a small phone booth in Alaska; covered in dried fish scales and other unknown salmon particles, holding onto a corded telephone, listening to the surprise celebration of my mother’s 50th birthday with tears rolling down my cheeks. It was one of the hardest moments I’ve ever had in my adult life, I had to fight to celebrate. When I signed my summer away to the salmon industry, I thought I was buying a ticket to a year of financial provision, I didn’t realize it meant sacrificing those irreplaceable moments.

Only a month or so ago, I once again found myself on the other end of the phone listening to the news of my sister’s engagement. I was the only one missing.

Just last week my mother went in to surgery; I wasn’t there to hold her hand and pray with her before she went in.

These last years have been marked by huge sacrifice.

I’ve sown into this season with many tears as I’ve missed all the really crazy things that are happening back home. Do I wish I was there? Yes. Will I let that affect my posture towards Him? No. I refuse to let entitlement creep into my heart, I chose to know Him and I chose to lay down this whole life that I have. In His sovereignty, He has every right to keep it. In His goodness, I know He will give it all back.

I know that I will reap a harvest of joy, and I think that it will yield greater fruit if I’m still thankful in the midst of the back-breaking.

TL;DR

He is worthy of my trust, my devotion and my celebration in all things and in all seasons. When I remember that, I don’t miss out on any thing.

I choose thankfulness.

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One comment on “How I feel about not going home this Thanksgiving.

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