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Dear Divas, As
we hurtle into Thanksgiving week please step away from the
turkey! Thursday is the debutante ball to the social season. Thus, ladies, before donning your satin-white gloves and getting lost in the “Perfect” of this week and holidays ahead, I ask you to please pause. Reflect on who you are and why Thanksgiving is meaningful. Why and how do you find passion in and through a day of cooking and cooking and cooking? As a South African, Thanksgiving is an adopted holiday. It’s my favorite. No strings of light, no gift giving. My first Thanksgiving celebration remains vivid. Invited to the house of some new friends, I was a bit nervous. I lectured the kids on how to behave. The car was warm. We were dressed up. The sky cranberry red; it was getting dark. The house windows lit, we could see people gathered inside. It was the first time I sensed that the whole of this country could pause. People in celebration of thankfulness. It’s that magic I shall never forget. Since then, of course, I have lived the insanity of Thanksgiving! In my want to recreate that harbor where I could anchor my wild world for one day, I have driven my family, my friends, my in-laws, and more than a handful of shopkeepers bonkers.
So Ladies, if you think of me this week, I will think of you. Together we can help one another remember how we find meaning and warmth and love and community and family in the efforts of Thanksgiving Day. Let me share a few of the insane, perfect-chasing things we heard from you this year about Thanksgivings past: —Sitting alone in the kitchen at 3 a.m. tying red ribbons around dinner rolls. —The teary breakdown over the de-molding of “perfect” Turkey-shaped butterballs. —A three-hour manic search for a fresh sold-out ingredient. —The hair-pulling frustration of trying to keep utensils and hands chilled enough for pastry. Should I continue? So ladies, help me and I’ll help you. Ok? Promise me…and I’ll promise you. Let us not get lost in the “perfect”—those places where we chase things that can’t be obtained. Lost in the Martha Stewart tear-out-page thanksgiving. Lost in what we think our mother-in-law wants. Lost in what we believe the family expects. Lost in recreating that Norman Rockwell, perfect painting, world-is-right thanksgiving. Promise me…and I’ll promise you. We won’t get overwhelmed. We wont’ go to that crazy crazy place where we spiral down. Ladies, know now, there will not be enough time, you will not have enough energy—Thanksgiving is not going to be perfect! So let’s not even go there, girlfriend. Promise me…and I’ll promise you. We need not feel alone. We will not get frustrated. We will not be angry. We will not succumb to the pressures that simply can’t be satisfied. And…we will not run from the house in search of a cranberry bliss bar. Promise me…and I’ll promise you. We will take a better route. We will like ourselves. We will recognize the bounty around us. We’ll make and chop and cook and dress and pour and cut because of and for the light of those around us. The table. The cheer. The lost. The born. The forgiven. Those we need to forgive. Those we love. Those who love us. The possible. The food. The company. The sharing. Promise me...and I’ll promise you. I’ll call you if I need to. You call me, if you need to, please. Ladies we must promise to understand that our lives are not Photoshoped. Somethings will not be as we imagined. Promise me you will see the wonder that comes with those at your table—whether at your home, a friend’s home, or a restaurant. Promise me…and I’ll promise you, that we’ll allow this Thanksgiving to unfold and we will sit and say our prayers and be thankful for the moment at hand…it won't be perfect…but our passion for being is more than we could have ever asked for, and that, Ladies, is what’s perfect. A passionate and peaceful Thanksgiving to you all.
United States
and Global South Africa |
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