One of my favorite songs (by The Highwomen) goes:
“I want a house with a Crowded Table, /
and a place by the fire for everyone. /
Let us take on the world while we’re young and able /
and bring us back together when the day is done.”
To say that my family gatherings growing up were large is probably an understatement. I come from a very big family of all local people. My dad is one of six children who had children, and then had their own children. Thanksgiving at my house was for my dad’s whole side of the family, which included (I’m not being hyperbolic) at least 40 people.
There was Cajun fried turkey, ham, and every casserole known to man. There was “How’s school treating you?” and “Tell me about your new job!” There was everyone meeting so-and-so’s infant for the first time. I remember my friends in high school coming over and being overwhelmed as we sat on the porch, shelling pecans.
But what I remember most was a tradition that started after the loss of my grandmother, the matriarch of the family.
That year, as grief lay like a thick fog, we all made a circle outside and held hands. People were encouraged to share what they were thankful for. A majority of that sharing revolved around my grandmother and the family leaning on each other.
It was a golden time that I’ll remember fondly.
Times change. People move. Pandemics happen. We lose loved ones. We gain babies and (if they’re good sports) new spouses. We have multiple social obligations and places to be on the same day. We have to go see this person but later meet that person. So we have to prioritize and make hard choices. Our tables may look much leaner.
Still, I think that there is something to be said for gathering around a crowded table. I count myself lucky to have grown up with a holiday like the one we shared.
This year, though our table is smaller, we will continue the tradition of saying what we are thankful for. There’s been recent passing of loved ones, new babies, and a slew of life events, good, bad, and ugly. There will be “I’m sorry that didn’t turn out like you planned” but also “Wow! You couldn’t have planned that. How exciting!” There will be hugs along with eye-rolls. There will be tears (all the kinds).
But all of this will occur while we are together.
Not everyone grew up in a big family like mine. But I’d like to think that as human beings, we can be welcoming. Friends, neighbors, unlikely dinner guests. We were not meant to live life alone. As I think on the size of my family, I smile and remember that as a kid, all that mattered to me was who showed up.
And so, however you celebrate any holiday, I hope that it’s with a crowded table.
One that’s full of love and understanding, or even just simply respect. One that invites and welcomes, not excludes. One that encourages being grateful and voicing that thanks in front of kids.
“Let us take on the world while we’re young and able,
And bring us back together when the day is done.”
