Does your family go around the table at Thanksgiving sharing what they’re grateful for? My family has its own twist on that tradition, and we do it year-round—not just the fourth Thursday of November. It goes back to me losing the spirit of the holiday many years ago.
“This tablecloth will never do,” I’d told my husband, Kevin, as we set the table one Thanksgiving when our kids, Esther and Ron, were young. “It’s got a stain.” Kev said it didn’t matter, that I could cover the stain with my new turkey salt and pepper shakers. “But my parents will be here!” I said. They were coming from out of town, and I wanted everything to be perfect.
Although I’d been out of Mom and Dad’s home and married for more than a decade, I was still trying to prove myself to them as a wife and a mother. Criticisms from my childhood constantly echoed through my mind: “No, that’s not the right way,” Mom would tell me, or “If I want something done right, I’ll just have to do it myself.” Whenever she and Dad visited us, I braced myself for more faultfinding.
I knew I’d lost sight of the reasons for Thanksgiving: celebrating God’s care and provision, showing others how much we appreciate them, spending time with the ones we love. There was just so much to do! That year, like every year, I got bogged down in the long list of details, from cooking to cleaning to decorating. That—along with my perfectionism—stole the joy from our celebration. Until God got my attention as only he could.
The summer Esther was 12 and Ron was 9, Kevin and I attended a marriage retreat for pastors and their spouses. I found myself leaning forward when the speaker talked about correcting others. “When you criticize someone, tell them in person,” she said. The speaker explained that seeing the kindness in your eyes and hearing the gentle tone of your voice will show your loved one that you want to make the relationship better. Not change them.
“But when you have a compliment, put it in writing,” the speaker told us. “Then the person you’re praising can save it to read whenever they feel invisible and unappreciated.” As a mom of tweens and the wife of a busy youth pastor, I knew that feeling well. Did Kevin and our kids ever feel the same way?
On the drive home from the retreat, I thought, I do a lot of correcting, but I don’t know how often I give compliments. Especially in writing. I made a mental note to put this idea into practice at the next Thanksgiving, when there would be just the four of us. I mentioned it to Kev that fall, and he was all for it.
After our tummies were full of turkey, mashed potatoes, seven-layer salad and cherry pie, I put our names in a basket, then handed out pens and blank note cards. “Okay, we’re each going to pick a name and write a message to that person saying what we appreciate about them.” Esther and Ron rolled their eyes practically up to the ceiling. I could tell what they were thinking: Great, another one of Mom’s family-improvement plans.
Kevin told the kids that he and I had agreed beforehand about the Thanksgiving messages. Ignoring Esther and Ron’s sighs and slumped shoulders, I passed around the basket. “God, please make this work,” I whispered. “Or at least let it not be a total failure.”
The room was silent as we labored over our notes. After we all finished and exchanged cards, we read the compliments we’d received aloud. I thought Ron’s note, “You are smart,” was too brief, but Esther sat up straighter in her chair after reading what her brother had written about her. And when I read Kev’s declaration, “I am proud of your singing and writing talents,” I fought back a couple tears.
I decided from then on to write more notes to our family. A list of five things I liked about someone tucked into a lunch sack. A note of praise left on a pillow. A card that read, “I miss you already” hidden among the clothes in a suitcase.
The unexpected bonus was the depth of joy I felt while writing those messages. Was it the act of writing? The extra effort it took? Or the tangible expression of gratitude? Whatever the reason, this renewed sense of thankfulness seeped into our family life. Giving thanks became a year-round habit, not just once a year.
Kevin began giving me greeting cards more often, something I’d missed from our dating days. I saved every card, tucking them into a drawer in my nightstand, so I could dip into them whenever I was feeling sad or stressed. Reading that Kev appreciated my constant prayers for our family or my hard work reassured me that I was valued. It even helped me let go of some of that penchant for perfectionism.
I still have a letter tacked to the wall in our bedroom that Kevin had written me during a very hard time in my life: “You will accomplish great things for God. The Lord is holding you close to his heart. Jesus has great plans for your future.” The knowledge that someone—not just anyone but the man who lived with me and knew all of my faults—believed in me was a game changer.
When Esther went to college 1,500 miles from us, Kevin and I were thrilled to receive a thank-you letter from her that first semester. Our daughter highlighted our generosity, unconditional love and understanding. When Ron moved away after high school, we got a note thanking us for having rules. “I’ve met a lot of people lately whose parents didn’t care what they did,” Ron wrote. “I realize now what a different person I’d be if you hadn’t set some boundaries in our family.” That message made all the conflicts during our kids’ teen years seem worth it.
I branched out beyond our family. “God will never let you go” to a friend whose family was falling apart. “Atta Girl” on the essays and math tests of the motherless student I tutored. Thank-you notes to coworkers and friends. Nothing long or flowery, just simple expressions that showed how much I valued that person.
These days, I send my compliments via email or social media more often than I do with pen and note cards. But I still make a conscious effort to look for, and praise, good qualities in others—a habit that’s made a positive difference in my perspective.
I no longer need to have everything perfect on the Thanksgiving table or at any other time. I’m more interested in how I can help the people around me feel loved and appreciated. Especially in writing. Because the power behind every word is the power of God’s love.
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