I glance at the pictures hung on the wall: my parent’s wedding, the birth of my cousins, my aunt’s new home.

The parade is on T.V. and giant turkey floats glide by the crowds of kids, wrapped up in warm scarves, hats and mittens.

A variety of foods waft past each guest as they walk by, mixing the smell of mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans and turkey.

There is chatter all around and I hear pieces of phrases from each conversation, floating in the room. Jami is getting remarried (again). Bethany is getting a new job. Kara bought her first house. Ryan is researching colleges to major in Business. Jeff is going back to school for a second Master’s degree.

I take my place at the table and sit back in the dark wooden chair, soaking in the moment. I look left, I glance right. Every chair taken, every plate full and everyone eager to dive in.

We all fold hands and bow our heads. “Dear God,” the head of the household starts.“Thank you for giving us the opportunity to gather together as family of origin and as family in Christ. Not everyone gets the chance to spend this Thanksgiving holiday together. Not everyone gets to fill the edges of their plates with food. Not everyone gets to be here. We are so grateful to spend this time together and build memories on this day. In Your name, Amen.”

I look up at the smiles of familiar and unfamiliar faces and announce my gratitude.

“I am thankful to be home.”