When I signed up and was accepted to the World Race last March, Thanksgiving seemed like a dot on the horizon that would probably never arrive. Now it is here – this morning I made “peppy” chow (peppermint puppy chow), watched the Macy’s parade and will soon go over to my boyfriend’s house to be with his family for the feast. It is completely mind boggling to think about how many things I will experience in the next year between Thanksgivings. But I am not going to write about all of the things I am pumped, anxious, elated or terrified to experience.
Instead, I want to say thank you to you my parents. This is my second Turkey Day in a row without my little momma, my padre and my Joey. Last year I went back packing in the Grand Canyon with friends and this year the distance between Kentucky and Washington DC seemed like quite a lot to travel for such a brief holiday. This is what I would say if I brought a script to the dinner table and read from it as we went around and said what we are thankful for.
Mom: I am thankful that the T in your name stands for Tough and I know this is true because of the number of times I complained about something as a child and you would just look me in the eye and say, “Tough.” Now, sometimes I thought you toed the line between tough and crazy…for example, that time I begged you to let me quit karate when I was in the middle of earning my black belt. I think I was so dramatic that I hugged the stair banister and cried (I was gunning for the Oscar award) but you wouldn’t let me quit. When tempted take the easy road, you never do. Speaking of the road, thank you for always drinking too much Diet Coke or coffee and making us stop every hour and earning the nickname, Tiny Tank. I am thankful that you let me be a tomboy …for a really long time and I never felt that I was letting you down when I refuse all things pink. I am thankful that you taught me that my value has never been and will never be in my appearance, evidenced by you shaving my head last year for St. Baldricks. I am thankful that you taught me to flare my nostrils a lot and clap with one hand, in case I ever need a party trick. I am thankful for your honesty and best hugs in the world. Lastly, I am thankful that you cried in public (and while eating a waffle) and told me that your job is not to make sure I live within 200 miles of you and have a husband, but to make sure that I follow God’s calling. Mom, I will never ever, ever forget that. I love you Mom.
Dad: Oh padre, my padre. I am thankful you sang “Aly Cat, Aly Cat” to wake me up in the morning even though I threatened your life within an inch of death by pillow. Thank you for having the best bald head so that someday, I will kiss it in front of everyone after you walk me down the aisle. Thank you for being the family chef and mad food scientist, and for watching food network with me. I am thankful that you have approached every family road trip like American Ninja Warrior, Car Packing Edition, and put up with us when you definitely did way more work than you should have. I am thankful you are so generous… especially with your frequent flier miles. Padre, the B in your name is for Brave. I am thankful you were brave enough to move your family across the country for an opportunity that at the time, only you saw. I am thankful you were brave enough to accept God’s call for you to grow RADICALLY in your faith. And thank you for being brave enough to let your daughter go on the World Race. I love you Dad.
Lastly: Mom, thank you for loving Dad. Dad, thank you for loving Mom. It can not be over stated: the best thing you have done for me and Joey is love each other and show us what marriage looks like: it’s hard, it’s hilarious, it’s messy and it’s worth it.
To everyone reading this who are not my parents, do not let me sugar coat these relationships or make them seem perfect. I am a normal, broken person parented by two normal, broken people. One of the hardest things of growing up is this very realization. Following through with loving my parents has been HARD and I am sure it has been hard for them, because honestly we have hurt each other, A LOT. So how do I love my parents this much if we have so much baggage?
As Christians we are tempted to think the Christian life is us going out and loving like Jesus, so therefore I should love my mom and love my dad. That’s partially true but it’s not the whole gospel. Before we can go love people like Jesus, we have to know that we are first children of God loved like Jesus. The kind of love Jesus deserved from the Father for his perfect life is now freely ours because of what he did on the cross. God is the ONLY Father who can love me perfectly. I can love my parents more because I have grown to not expect perfection from them. Now, I’m not handing out advice that if you have lower standards you’ll never be let down. By no means! I am saying that my parents are not my infallible Gods, and there is freedom in that. Do we still hurt each other? Yup. Do I try to honor my parents? Yup. But there is freedom in our relationship to make mistakes and ask forgiveness and then grow because we know we have the love of the Father.
See you soon, Mom and Dad!
Happy Thanksgiving! Happy Turkey Coma-ing!
