One of my favorite memories from this Thanksgiving weekend is summed up right here in this photo of my husband’s strong hands playing the keys of my childhood piano. This piano has always had my heart. It arrived free to my family from a school which no longer needed it, a hundred years old and seasoned with its slightly cracked bridge and scratches of an instrument well used and worn in. I learned to play the hymnal at this piano. And still today my sisters and I come home and sit down at its creaky bench and run our hands over its familiar keys. Playing this piano feels like home. And seeing my husband sit down at it and play the melodies of both of our hearts makes my soul glad in a way I never knew possible. I’m still overwhelmed by the thankfulness I feel for this time spent with family. I have an ache in my heart at the thought that tomorrow evening we will drive away from it all again and return to our schedules and our plans, but I have such hope for things yet to come, for dreams yet to be dreamed, for our own home to someday grow into the home that I yearn for. I love these people. And I wasn’t able to capture the fullness of just how much I love them when it came to my turn at the Thanksgiving table. But I carry them in my heart, and I carry home around in my soul, and I cherish who they are. And I love this man sitting here at the piano that helped to grow my soul. What a Thanksgiving my friends. What a beautiful life. I hope your Thanksgiving was beautiful as well. I hope you had a moment of quiet simple joy and that you have already begun to gather thanks for all the blessings yet to come your way.
A Fellow Grace Wanderer