Lord, thank you for the season of Thanksgiving.

Thank you for a holiday dedicated to being grateful for all the blessings you’ve poured into our lives as brightly as autumn colors poured across the woodland landscape.

Thank you for the first winter storm, which—though the weather forecasters all swore we’d need to batten down the hatches, set sandbags to direct rainflow, and stock up on firewood and hot soup—is merely a pleasant steady drizzle outside our windows, the likes of which would be normal in any state besides California. Here, rain is a statewide miracle equivalent to the metaphorical white Christmas.

Thank you, subsequently, for a reason to make our first woodsmoke fire of the year, around which we gather all afternoon to catch up on each other’s lives. Thank you for this afternoon, for the family and friends who will park in lines down our driveway and come invade our house with good cheer and festivities and steaming dishes of delicious food.

Thank you for the bustle of the last few days, for the waiting, for the hum of the oven and the flour-spattered countertop and the sounds of people busting around the kitchen, adjusting temperatures and arranging dishes and cleaning the fancy plates that we take out once a year for this very occasion.

Thank you for this morning, for waking up at a leisurely pace, with no obligations or deadlines looming over me, the absence of which felt surprisingly light and freeing. Thank you also for the feeling of sitting here, stooped over this notebook, scribbling down these words while Christmas jazz tunes play off my laptop.

Thank you for oranges speckled with cloves, for reuniting with people not seen in years (and all the awkward, glorious small talk ensued).

Thank you for the smell of garlic mashed potatoes in the crockpot, of bacon-wrapped turkey hot out of the oven, and the two different green bean recipes that we make because we can’t decide which side of the family’s recipe is better—and so we have both, because that’s what feasts are for.

Thank you for the promise of many leftovers to be enjoyed in the days to come. Thank you for a chance to breathe, to celebrate after all the days of preparation and decoration. Thank you for family who traveled hours and hours in traffic to get here, to this moment, and enjoy the crackling fire, and the charcuterie board of cheese and crackers and kalamata olives, and the whole weekend ahead to slow down and enjoy this feeling, right now, of resting in contentment. Thank you for holidays. Thank you for rest. And thank you, most of all, for Thanksgiving.

Amen.

<3 Olivia Grace