A Different Perspective, Victoria Advocate
Having recently missed a great photo opp, I determined to take plenty of pictures to commemorate this past Thanksgiving. Indeed, that happened, but what later filled my heart to overflowing were the photos I didn’t take. All the instances my mind captured that happened too fast for any camera. Let me set the stage:
After amassing groceries for a week, we kicked off the holiday on Wednesday evening. My husband and daughter prepped her veggie hash, chopping lots of sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts. The mouth-watering aroma of real bacon filled the kitchen while my three granddaughters and I watched The Wizard of Oz.
Thanksgiving Day dawned cold and rainy. My son and his two boys came early so he could visit with his sister, and the boys could play with their cousins. Our five grandchildren were cooped up inside, except for hurried outdoor jaunts, mainly to blow off steam. While the children ran through the house shrieking, my husband prepped a turkey and a ham, and my son cooked his famous mashed potatoes. My daughter and I took the kids for a walk, in between showers. The youngest found a large puddle, managed to get soaking wet and step in ants. When we returned, my six-year-old grandson followed me around, saying, “I’m hungry, Mamaw.” I forgot he’s particular and offered him a homemade ginger snap which he politely declined after one tiny bite. By 10:30, the little people were restless again and decided they, too, were hungry, so I made mac and cheese and they ate a second breakfast. It seemed to help.
Throughout the day, however, there were lots of photos I didn’t take. I missed the ones where my daughter handled her girls with love and patience—an enormous feat considering two-year-old Ellie got in mom’s makeup bag two days in a row. My mind also captured the shot when she climbed in her grandfather’s lap and touched the “owie” on his cheek—a scab from a skin cancer the doctor had burned away—as he gently explained it didn’t hurt. We did get some shots of her crawling on the couch to sit by her great-grandmother. What a treasure—the youngest and the oldest sitting side by side.
There are also no hard copies of the way my son and his wife generously took over leftover duty and filled to-go plates for the better part of an hour. Their patient communication proved a real blessing as everyone had their favorites and all the “orders” were different.
No photos exist of the new puppy stories or the individual reasons everyone gave for being thankful. Or the way the children danced happy little jigs when their other grandmother announced she brought doughnuts for dessert. Speaking of which, we were all relieved no pictures emerged of the dessert buffet—overload hardly describes it.
Last but not least, my mind snapped a shot when my mom and her “special friend” arrived. Those of us standing in the garage all gave differing hand signals to help them avoid the rain puddles. Their genuine thankfulness at not having to attend another family event alone was unforgettable.
Our Thanksgiving will go down as one in a succession of pleasurable family get-togethers. The photos we took were special—but just as special were the memories we made. I’m thankful to share our celebration of the day with my readers. Hope your holidays are lovely. “And whatever you do or say, do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father.” (Colossians 3:17)