Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.
There’s just something about that Thursday in late November that always warms my heart and memory like nothing else quite does.
It falls at the hinge point of the year – after the pristine beauty of autumn, but before winter descends – cradled in that gentle in-between where time slows and reflection feels natural.
And that’s saying a lot coming from me, because Thanksgiving in our family and community probably looks very different than most.
For months leading up to it, we’ve all been working around the clock preparing for our annual community festival, which begins the very next day.
After Thanksgiving dinner, we walk the grounds. Tents and pavilions glowing beneath a starlit sky. Tables filled with handmade crafts people spent all year creating. Friends preparing gourmet food from every corner of the world in kitchens scattered throughout the fairgrounds. The Heritage Center stage mostly empty, save for a couple musicians practicing last-minute.
Everyone’s ready for the 10-20,000 folks that will show up the next two days. It’s impossible to do the event justice through any description. It’s an experience. We love sharing our life with the world.
I know some of you will be there, and I can’t wait to see you.
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Growing up, my cousins would always travel down from DFW, and my grandparents would come over from their farm a few minutes down the road. We’d gather around our massive wood table, my dad would bless the food, and then we’d indulge: roasted turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, all kinds of salads, and at least three types of cranberries (candied, with cream, and jelly-style). And to drink, Martinelli’s sparkling apple juice – a huge treat for us kids.
