“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole doesn’t he?” ~Clarence the angel, “It’s a Wonderful Life”
It’s Thanksgiving week, which always gets me nostalgic. I heard on the news that this week will be the highest travel week for the year. I so miss those days of travel. I absolutely LOVED going home for the holidays. There is nothing in the world like walking in the door of my childhood home to be greeted by all the people who love you the most. Things have changed since losing everyone, and now I am the one my children come home to. And let me tell you, I absolutely love seeing my kids and grandkids walk through that door! I have become my mother in so many ways.
I have an old suitcase that is one of my favorite treasures. It belonged to my grandmother, who we called Nanny; she passed away when I was 14. She was the only grandparent I have ever had, because both my granddad and both grandparents on my dad’s side passed away before I was born. I met my great-grandmother once in a nursing home when I was little and the only thing I remember was that she kept calling Dennis “Billy” and neither he nor I could figure out who Billy was. Apparently Dennis had a strong resemblance to Billy, who I actually still don’t know to this day where he belonged in the family tree. We have a VERY large family tree, as evidence by the treasures inside this suitcase. When my Nanny passed away, Mom inherited this suitcase which is filled with old - VERY OLD - family pictures. So old that I don’t recognize most of the people standing by the spoke-rimmed cars and looking like they came straight from the Prohibition era mafia. Mom always laughed when I told her that they all looked so beautiful and a little scary.
Anyway, back to the suitcase. When Mom passed away, this ragged old George Bailey suitcase was passed down to me. I tucked it away under my bed and planned on doing something with it someday while it collected dust. I pulled it out not too long ago to help my son do some research on our family tree for his college class, and as I looked through the pictures it hit me. Although I don’t know all of them, these are my people. I would not be here if it weren’t for them. They are not just old photos of pretend people from a story or a movie; they were real, living, breathing humans who share the same DNA as I do. They are my history, part of my story; and suddenly, this ratted old suitcase became a priceless treasure. I saw - really saw - my grandparents as a young married couple. I saw them with their young brothers and sisters and friends, laughing over a meal. I saw my mama and my aunt and uncle as babies and little kids with all of their cousins. I saw my mom as a teenager being silly posing like a model with my aunt. I saw my great-grandmother in a photo from the late 1800’s as a young girl in her fancy hat. I saw meals and holidays and war ration tickets and newspaper clippings my Nanny kept about her grandkids. I saw my FAMILY. I saw LOVE.
My children amaze me. I think most mothers think that, but this mama has learned more about the love of Jesus from my kids than I think anyone else. I have had so many moments where my little ones lay truth bombs on me and made me think, “Do you talk to Jesus after you go to sleep at night?? How do you know that?!” One particular instance happened the other day with Mason, my 8-year-old. We were talking on the way to school about the day ahead. I try to always start them off with prayer and set their minds on ways to be kind to others that day. This particular day we were talking about people who are hard to be kind to. You know those people, right? The family member who you dread seeing on Thanksgiving because they seem to never have any problems and always make a crappy comment about yours? Yeah, that one – although on a 2nd grade level. Mason’s solution to this problem was simple: if you can’t love them, give them Jesus’ love. He said, “Mommy, it’s easy. We just take the love Jesus gives us, and we give some of it to them.” I said, “Like a basketful of love?” and he replied, “Yes! A basketful of Jesus’ love! We just take some out of our basket and give it to them.” Profound!
I see so many things on social media about dreading seeing our family over the holidays, or how to avoid the ones that aren’t so nice. I realize there are truly abusive situations in families that need to be avoided. But that one person who annoys you or thinks they know it all? How about instead of avoiding them, we offer them some of Jesus’ love from our own basket? Let’s remember who they are – a real, living, breathing human who shares the same DNA we do. Let’s be thankful they are still here and we have a chance to still be a part of their story, and they a part of ours. We may not always like each other, but we can ALWAYS choose to love each other. When we have such an enormous amount of love filling our basket up, there is plenty to go around!
“We love because he first loved us.” ~I John 4:19
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