Squeeze in time for extra shopping to pick up the cinnamon, cloves, eggs, and Gravy Master you forgot on the first trip. Back to the blankety-blank store for cranberry sauce.
Down to the last twenty-four before Turkey Time. Wednesday night, heave the turkey into an ice water bath in the sink to finish defrosting overnight. Figure out what time you'll have to get it into the oven tomorrow. Maybe you can grab five hours of sleep tonight.
Assemble the troops to assign morning jobs: "YOU have to clean the bathroom - it looks like a pig sty. Don't forget to put a fresh towel in there. YOU have to peel the potatoes. YOU have to set the table before the company comes. DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. I CAN'T DO EVERYTHING!!!!"
Make pies late at night. Bending over to put the pumpkin pies in the oven, you spill the pumpkin filling onto the shells because you fill them too full. Now the crusts are going to burn. You yell at the stove, the pies, and anyone who dares to come into the kitchen.
You sit down as the pies bake. You're totally exhausted and tense. How will everything get finished on time? A family member looks at you and says the unforgivable:
"Calm down. You're taking this all too seriously. Everything will work out. Your voice is getting a real edge to it."
You either storm out of the room or sit down and cry.
But a clear calm voice inside you starts whispering soothingly.
"Listen to yourself. Those kids and that husband you've been yelling at are the ones you're celebrating about on Thanksgiving. They're who you're grateful for. They and all those other people who are going to show up with side dishes and other pies that hopefully don't have burnt crusts so you can hide yours behind them. And you'll give and receive lots of hugs and kisses too, because you're blessed - you, your family and friends really love one another."
You sit up a little straighter. The voice murmurs on.
"This kitchen feels so warm and cozy, especially if you look out the window and remember the snow. That turkey will fill the whole house with a wonderful aroma tomorrow for hours and hours as it cooks. Nobody will notice that you didn't get to wash the back hall and kitchen floor because everybody's going to tramp more dust and dirt in anyway and the toddlers will get food all over it during dinner. Everybody's coming for companionship anyway, not to check out your floor."
You start to relax. Actually smile. The voice continues.
"You know, you could really miss out on this whole Thanksgiving thing if you're not careful. Your nerves could keep you from seeing the Big Picture. Who's this holiday about, anyway? Regardless of the crazy sales some stores are having?"
"It's about You," you whisper back. "Thank you, God. For everyone and everything. For this world. For my life. For the lives of everyone whom I hold dear. For a roof over my head. For heat. For food. For my hot shower in the morning." You pause. Maybe it's insignificant, but let's be real. "For having a chance to get out this week and get my hair done."
"You look lovely, dear," God answers. "I know your stylist is grateful for that good tip too. It helped her buy HER turkey."
"I thank you, Lord, with all my heart..." (Psalm 138:1.)