This Time of Year

This time of year I miss her even more than usual—my mom.

 

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It was this month in 2009 that I took leave to be with her. It was this week in 2009 that we shared our last Thanksgiving holiday, the one when she requested we sing the Doxology before eating our dinner. It was this weekend that I took my last day trip with her and my dad together, a venture to Brooklyn, NY.

 

We ate dinner in a restaurant that floated beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. We stood on a pier and watched the sun sinking toward the waters of the East River, the Statue of Liberty raising her torch in the distance.

 

I’m thankful for that beautiful trip, for that memorable song at the table, for one last chance to prepare the turkey with my mom, to watch her make the gravy on the stove from scratch. I’m thankful that today she sings her songs of joy and salvation high above the Statue of Liberty, her voice mingling with the angels’, her eyes seeing a glory more majestic than a sunset over the ocean.

 

I’m thankful that she was, and always will be, my mother.

 

And I’m thankful for God’s grace, presence, gifts, and provision in the years since He welcomed her into His heaven. I’m thankful for another year to spend Thanksgiving with my family, for the new things God is ever doing.

 

And it is that spirit of thanksgiving that permeates every event—whether a holiday gathering or an ordinary weeknight evening—with the potential to be as sweet and memorable and significant as if it were our last.

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