It has been our tradition to introduce our children to their first US Thanksgiving with our friends the Wilkerson/Hightowers. Of course, that was before we moved hundreds of miles away from Georgia.
We really had a fantastic time this year celebrating with other displaced seminarians, letting the children run around the gymnasium while the parents ate and visited. One of the families didn’t even live in our neighborhood last year, another won’t be here next Thanksgiving and three of the children hadn’t been born last Thanksgiving. The food was delicious and abundant. The laughter was frequent and genuine. The fellowship was true.
i loved it, yet I couldn’t help but wonder how the Hightower gathering was going. They had their own first Thanksgiving celebration with Faith and Cecil’s first child – a son I would have loved to meet – and I’m sure they didn’t notice that we Cowans were breaking our Thanksgiving traditions. Our snickerdoodle didn’t know that she was spending her first US Thanksgiving as a rebel against precedent set by her older siblings. As the mama, however, I felt a slight tugging at my heart and realized one again that this side of heaven, our celebrations will always seem incomplete.