Today I am thankful that this Thanksgiving is not last Thanksgiving.
Last Thanksgiving Joshua was eleven days old. I was miserably sleep-deprived. I still had raging hormones coursing through my body. I was wondering if I shouldn't just give this squirming, screaming ball of baby away to someone made of better stuff than I. My dad, God love him, had driven up from Nashville to spend the holiday with us. He probably spent the whole time wondering what had happened to his happy, chatty, cheerful daughter and if she would ever come back to replace this hollow, lifeless, shell of a person who had taken up residence on the living room couch.
The only thing I remember about Thanksgiving dinner is that I ate about three bites while trying desperately to nurse Joshua. I chewed as quietly as possible so I could hear whether he was actually swallowing anything or just pacifying himself. Not that it mattered, of course, so long as he was quiet.
Both my mom and dad had reassured me that "this time next year he'll be sitting at the table eating turkey and mashed potatoes." It didn't matter. I couldn't see past the next month of writing ordination papers while trying to soothe this poor guy who would be happy to sit down by himself for about, oh, fifteen seconds before demanding to be picked up again.
Right now he just woke up after twelve hours of good sleep. He just finished "helping" Jay fix breakfast by pulling everything out of the kitchen cabinets and now he's playing in the living room with my dad. This afternoon we'll enjoy our Thanksgiving lamb and Saturday we'll do it all over again with my mom's family in Nashville.
I'm so thankful.