Thanksgiving 2025—Traditions New and Old

 The day before Thanksgiving—I’m reminiscing about long-ago holidays and celebrations with my children when they were still at home. It’s bittersweet, this remembering.

When I was a child, my parents picked us up from school on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, and we headed north to my Aunt Lorse and Uncle Sherman’s house in Ohio. Many times the roads were packed with snow and ice as we traveled the four-hour drive with excitement and worry of getting there safely. Mom and her sister went to work in the kitchen preparing dressing and fruit salad for the next day. Everything was homemade and the aromas from the kitchen had my mouth watering. They laughed and talked and it became a treasured tradition through the years. I played with my cousins without a care in the world.

After my husband and I were married, we ate dinner with his family including aunts and uncles, grandparents and anyone else who needed a hot meal and warm fellowship. Our Thanksgiving tradition changed again after we moved to South Carolina in the mid 80’s. Our pastor and his family invited us to join them on more than one occasion. Andy took his first steps while in their home.

Bailey and Andy - 1991

The memories wash over me as I continue through time. We moved to Anderson, South Carolina in the summer of 1989. We bought a little brick house that sat under a canopy of massive oak trees. Thanksgiving Day became the perfect time for raking thousands of leaves. Earl made huge piles of leaves for Andy and Bailey to jump in while I cooked our Thanksgiving feast in the kitchen. The joy on their faces still brings a smile as I recall their rosy cheeks and clothes plastered with leaves and dirt. Those are treasured memories I ponder when life is hard.

By the time Andy and Bailey were in late elementary school, we built our dream home on Plum Lane. I prepared a festive table in our formal dining room, every chair filled with family and friends. We loved hosting those special holidays, the more the merrier. My dad usually came from West Virginia, and one year, Earl’s parents and sister joined us. There was always room for one more. After Andy graduated from college and began working in the corporate world, he invited his boss, fiancé, and her daughter. A neighbor across the street also sat at our table. The conversation was lively–filled with different voices and cultures.

We make a huge fuss over the food, but ultimately, Thanksgiving is about the people you love and the overflow of a grateful heart. The seats around our table have changed to include my precious grandchildren, the spouses of my children, and family not related by blood, yet just as important. The bond we share is grounded in our relationship with Christ and the love He gives us to set one more place at the table. 

I have much to thank Him for this year, as we all do. When you look around your table this Thanksgiving, don’t be shy in expressing how you feel about those seated around you. Don’t miss an opportunity to say, “I love you, and I’m thankful for you.”

Our tables change every year. Children grow up and begin their own traditions, and you will take a back seat, allowing them the gift of setting their own table. Thanksgiving of 2025 will only happen once, use it wisely and joyfully. One day it will be a memory someone else treasures in their heart.

Happy Thanksgiving to you from My Little Corner!

My Journey Down The Broken Road

 The book God destined for me to write finally became available on Amazon last week. I'm still waiting on my author copies to arrive, but I'm excited about all God is doing with The Broken Road as I wait. 

As I reflect on the journey of the last twelve years, a few things come to mind. If you are struggling with any kind of delayed healing from past trauma, these are the steps I undertook and would highly encourage you to begin your own journey.

1. Don't run from your trauma. Face it head on.

2. Find a qualified, Christian counselor. Don't be afraid to share your junk. They are equipped to handle your pain.

3. Allow yourself to grieve the trauma.

4. Allow the words of scripture to speak into your pain and change your mindset.

5. Find margin in your life. This is not the time to load your schedule with activities. A sabbatical may be necessary. You are worth it.

6. Surround yourself with family and friends who will pray for you, and with you, during this pivotal time in your life. It's hard work and you can't do it alone.

7. Remove anyone from your life who doesn't support your journey. You will recognize who they are by the way they communicate with you.

8. Do something tangible along the way to encourage the healing process. I made a photo album of my mom's life. It's a visual reminder of what an incredible woman she was, and helps me remember how much she loved me, A part of me grieved with every photo and memory.

We are all uniquely made by God and each of our journeys will look different. These are a few suggestions that helped me finally heal after thirty-eight plus years of carrying the burden of trauma, grief, and unforgiveness. 

You can do this. A life of freedom in Christ is waiting. Just one phone call, email, or text will open the door to abundant life. What are you waiting for? 

  

Light at the End of The Broken Road

Sitting outside in our new living space is the perfect place to reflect. I need days like this–days of catching up on minor chores, crossing off long-needed repairs on my to-do list, and time for pondering. Most of my inspiration for writing comes when there’s time for my mind to wander. The flutter of a bird or the rhythm of wind chimes triggers a memory and down the rabbit hole I fall. Next thing I know I’m searching for a photo or date on a calendar trying to piece together the details of my story.

 

It's all good though. I’m not triggered by bad images any longer and memories aren’t as painful as they once were. I’ve worked through mountains of grief and trauma and come out the other side a different person.

 

I’m thankful for every bump in the road, every detour, but especially the broken road I’ve traveled to get to where I am today. 

 

I’m in the final phase of my book, The Broken Road, and I can’t wait to share how God healed me of childhood trauma. It’s really His story of redeeming the broken child inside a grown woman.

 

You may be thinking, “Oh great, another memoir about somebody’s abuse and all the people she blames.”

 

That’s not the goal for this writer or this book. I believe there’s power in telling our stories so it can help someone else find healing. As an introvert who protects her privacy, I have no desire to just be another voice saying, “Me too.” I want to point people to the only true source of genuine healing—and that’s Jesus Christ. If not for Him, and the people He placed in my life, I would be six feet under.

 

For now, I am going to treasure these days of pondering and listen for the sweet nuggets of inspiration. Writing from a healed heart and mind gives me so much joy, but I had to travel the broken road to get here. And because of that, it’s all worth it.

Finding My Place to Be Still

I’m sitting in front of the fire at one of my favorite places on earth. The Cove is a unique place, filled with the best people, and the coziest spaces. 

My writing friends and I come every year in February for a writing conference. This is our place to retreat from the world and focus on the written word. We share our hopes, plans, struggles, successes, and of course good food and conversation. The Cove is known for their delicious meals, and this year is no exception.

This place has a spiritual presence that I haven’t found anywhere else. God’s word is spoken here daily, His name is lifted high in praise as well. It’s as if this is but a glimpse of what awaits us in heaven. It’s a place to meet like-minded believers with a common goal of sharing the gospel through books, devotionals, music, articles, and social media posts.

 

I come to this mountain expecting to hear from God, and He never disappoints. His word says, “Be still and know that I am God…” and this place is the soil where I plant my vision for future words. When I’m finally still, I feel His presence and know He is with me, and has given me a message to share, whether through a book, poetry, devotionals, or blog posts.

 

I pray you have a place where you can be still and know that He is God. You will be filled with such joy and peace that your soul will want you to return year after year. And that, my friends, is something money can’t buy.

When One Phone Call Changed My Life

I woke up very early this morning in a hotel about thirty minutes from my hometown, thinking about the life-changing event that took place fifty years ago today. 

Have you had a before and after event in your life that changed everything? Of course you have, we all have if we’re human. My event occurred on Saturday, December 14, 1974 when I picked up the phone beside my bed. It was a doctor in Morgantown at the WV University Medical Center. Here is an excerpt from the book I’m writing:

     “I was sleeping soundly when the phone beside my bed rang. Assuming it was the doctor calling to say my mom could come home that day, I answered the call, only to hear my dad on the other phone. I hung up and went back to sleep. My brother came into my room, shaking me awake said, “Sissy, Daddy is crying.”

     I moved quickly down the hall to my parent’s bedroom. Dad told us to sit down so we could talk. He said, “Your mommy isn’t coming home, she went to be with Jesus.”

     Shock and disbelief washed over me like a tidal wave. This couldn’t be true, she was coming home today after a two week stay at the West Virginia University Medical Center in Morgantown. The surgery she’d had to deaden the nerves connected to her hip was a success. The excruciating pain she’d endured over the last couple of years was over and now she could come home and get better. These were my thoughts as I tried to process the devastating news that my beautiful mother was gone. Gone, as in never coming home. Gone, as in I would never see her again this side of heaven. Gone.”

The purpose of my trip is to visit the graves of my parents and decorate them for Christmas. I’ve never been able to be here at this time of year because of church commitments as well as the Christmas season in general. This year is different though. I felt pulled here as if by an unseen hand. I felt a need to return on this anniversary to honor her and remember her. She was an incredible woman who loved God first and then her family. I felt a need to return to the place where I suffered so much pain. I want to sit with my fifteen-year-old self, hold her, comfort her, and tell her that everything will truly be okay. She was young and naïve and didn’t deserve all the bad things that happened after that phone call.

My before and after has a happy ending after decades. God stepped in and miraculously healed every broken place, and today I needed to return to the place where my parents' bodies lie side by side waiting for the glorious resurrection when Jesus returns. One day I’ll join them beyond the veil, but until then, I’ll place flowers in the vase and remember.