The holidays often invite us to paint a picture-perfect moment—as if we are all supposed to arrive at the table glowing with joy, free from grief, and carrying nothing but gratitude. And while we do have much to be thankful for, many of us also come to this season with a quiet ache, a longing, a sadness that lingers just beneath the surface.
Yesterday, my nephew Sawyer reached out about Thanksgiving. He prefers solitude and avoids crowds, yet he asked if we could bring him a plate for Thanksgiving. His request reminded me that even those who choose the margins still feel that pull toward connection—especially this time of year.
Holidays bring memories with them. We will begin the day with a Thanksgiving breakfast at Jim and Laura’s (our son and his wife). My daughter-in-law is navigating the fresh grief of losing her mother, Cyndi.
Later today, we will gather at my sister-in-law’s home, where her husband David is under hospice care. And as we sit around the table, we will remember their son Jason, who died far too soon.
And I haven’t even mentioned my own mother, sister, and nephew, Alex whose absence still leaves a hollow place in my heart.
The Brazilian theologian Rubem Alves introduced me to the word saudade—a longing for someone or something absent, tinged with the sweetness of remembered love. It’s a word that captures what so many of us feel this time of year: a yearning for the people who shaped us, the voices we miss, the moments that can never be repeated but will always be cherished.
This year, I find myself grateful for all of it—the joy and the sorrow, the fullness and the emptiness, the presence and the absence. Paul writes, “Give thanks in all things.” Not for all things, but in all things. Even in the longing. Even in the loss. Even in the broken places where love still echoes.
So today, my hallelujah is a broken one—but it is real. I choose to give thanks for those gathered near and for those held close in memory. I give thanks for God’s goodness, which persists through every season, and for grace that does not flee from our grief but meets us there.
This Thanksgiving, may you find gratitude not only in what is whole, but in what is broken—and discover again the enduring love that threads it all together.
EnSpirit 