An Empty Chair at the Table
Thanksgiving is always one of my favorite holidays.
Has been since I was a kid.
Mostly because of the sweet potato casserole.
And mashed potatoes.
And green been casserole.
And Grandma Posey's peppermint ice cream stuff.
But not really.
Right?
It is really all about being together.
About my parent's dining room table that was never really big enough.
So card tables, or end tables, or tables we smuggled home from church would be added.
Mis-matched china and folding chairs. Sitting so close your elbows touched.
(till I married a left-hander and he threw off the whole groove).
It is really about being together.
About children playing on the floor at the feet of grandparents.
About playing tee-ball in the front yard until we hit the ball into mean Mary's yard.
Trips up to Patrick Henry to play at the park.
It is really about being together.
About the time dad deep fried a turkey and we we worried the whole house was going to go up in flames.
About the moments where there are too many plates to fit in mom's kitchen sink.
And the year she got the Keurig which revolutionized our after dinner coffee.
(Now we pick from a spinning carousel)
It is really about being together.
But this year was different.
First, my siblings weren't there.
My brother and sister-in-law and precious niece stayed in St. Louis.
My sister and favorite nephew were in New York.
My brother was in Texas. Hunting. Or something.
This year was different.
Grandma Bev wasn't there. I mean she was in spirit - right?
I mean I say that (and do mean it), as a pastor... but she wasn't there.
And her absence felt heavy. Our grief still fresh.
Her spot on the couch, filled momentarily by me or mom or Chris or Aunt Kathy... but still...
An empty chair at the table.
This year was different.
Not just because grandma wasn't here... but also because we are missing our son.
I mean he isn't missing.
He is in some creche in Haiti.
But he isn't here.
An empty chair at the table.
He isn't making clay creations with his Eden or spiting out "poisonous" vegetables like Bethany or melting our hearts like cousin Amelia.
He isn't yet in my arms.
And so this year is different.
I think this waiting... is maybe a different type of grief?
Is that possible? Grieving moments lost. Years passed.
Celebrations we won't share together?
Moments of laughter, and abundance and joy and family we could be sharing...
but this process is so long. And so complicated. And so expensive.
So there are empty chairs at the table.
And then there is the really painful part...
Chris: Just think, next year he will be here... maybe.
Me: Maybe. Maybe. Maybe... but Maybe not.
Chris: Yeah. Maybe not.
Empty seats at the table.
This Thanksgiving season I am thankful for the abundance of blessings in our lives, in the mist of this waiting...
For each of you. For your continued prayers and support.
For your gifts of generosity. For your love.
For being our Big God family, that holds me up... especially today when I am feeling so down.
#waitingforonemore #bishopfamilyadopts #bethegood
Has been since I was a kid.
Mostly because of the sweet potato casserole.
And mashed potatoes.
And green been casserole.
And Grandma Posey's peppermint ice cream stuff.
But not really.
Right?
It is really all about being together.
About my parent's dining room table that was never really big enough.
So card tables, or end tables, or tables we smuggled home from church would be added.
Mis-matched china and folding chairs. Sitting so close your elbows touched.
(till I married a left-hander and he threw off the whole groove).
It is really about being together.
About children playing on the floor at the feet of grandparents.
About playing tee-ball in the front yard until we hit the ball into mean Mary's yard.
Trips up to Patrick Henry to play at the park.
It is really about being together.
About the time dad deep fried a turkey and we we worried the whole house was going to go up in flames.
About the moments where there are too many plates to fit in mom's kitchen sink.
And the year she got the Keurig which revolutionized our after dinner coffee.
(Now we pick from a spinning carousel)
It is really about being together.
But this year was different.
First, my siblings weren't there.
My brother and sister-in-law and precious niece stayed in St. Louis.
My sister and favorite nephew were in New York.
My brother was in Texas. Hunting. Or something.
This year was different.
Grandma Bev wasn't there. I mean she was in spirit - right?
I mean I say that (and do mean it), as a pastor... but she wasn't there.
And her absence felt heavy. Our grief still fresh.
Her spot on the couch, filled momentarily by me or mom or Chris or Aunt Kathy... but still...
An empty chair at the table.
This year was different.
Not just because grandma wasn't here... but also because we are missing our son.
I mean he isn't missing.
He is in some creche in Haiti.
But he isn't here.
An empty chair at the table.
He isn't making clay creations with his Eden or spiting out "poisonous" vegetables like Bethany or melting our hearts like cousin Amelia.
He isn't yet in my arms.
And so this year is different.
I think this waiting... is maybe a different type of grief?
Is that possible? Grieving moments lost. Years passed.
Celebrations we won't share together?
Moments of laughter, and abundance and joy and family we could be sharing...
but this process is so long. And so complicated. And so expensive.
So there are empty chairs at the table.
And then there is the really painful part...
Chris: Just think, next year he will be here... maybe.
Me: Maybe. Maybe. Maybe... but Maybe not.
Chris: Yeah. Maybe not.
Empty seats at the table.
This Thanksgiving season I am thankful for the abundance of blessings in our lives, in the mist of this waiting...
For each of you. For your continued prayers and support.
For your gifts of generosity. For your love.
For being our Big God family, that holds me up... especially today when I am feeling so down.
#waitingforonemore #bishopfamilyadopts #bethegood
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