Living in Gratitude

If you have spent any time with me this fall, you already know the truth: my Christmas decorations have been up for weeks. I started getting out my Santa collection before Halloween, well before trick-or-treaters even stepped onto my front porch. By November 1, the bins were stacked, garlands were unfurled, and the house smelled faintly of pine and ambition.

As empty nesters, Russell has been the primary (and sometimes only) witness to this annual holiday takeover, and he deserves some sort of lifetime achievement award. He has tolerated the full Santa situation, the nonstop Christmas movies, the holiday playlists on repeat, and the fact that I start decorating long before anyone is even home to see it. He makes repeated trips to our neighborhood Ace Hardware, hauls boxes up flights of stairs, adjusts the “exterior illumination” to my exacting specifications, and does it all with a smile on his face.

Truthfully, I think I go a little overboard because I am anticipating the moment the kids come home. Anna, somehow already a senior at Ohio University preparing to become a high school social studies teacher, will be home for the long weekend. Jake will be driving home from Chicago, where he builds a career in sales while writing and performing improv shows on the weekends, chasing a dream with courage and humor. His girlfriend, Hannah, who fits right in with our slightly chaotic holiday rhythm, will be joining us too.

The older I get, the more deeply I feel the gift in this: they still want to come home. They want to be here, in this house that glows a little too brightly and plays Christmas music a little too early. That alone fills me with gratitude.

This season also carries the weight of who is missing. This will be our third Thanksgiving without my mom, and she is everywhere this time of year. She is woven into the food we make, the traditions we keep, and the instinct to gather people close. I miss her every single day, but I am profoundly grateful for the example she set, for how to love fiercely, show up consistently, and create family wherever she went.

My sister, Kelly, and her husband, John, are hosting Thanksgiving this year. Their home will be full: nieces, nephews, my stepfather Jeff, and all the joyful noise that only family can make. It is the kind of gathering that reminds me how lucky I am to have a family that truly enjoys being together.

Maybe it is age or perspective or just the reality of this next season of life, but I find myself living more intentionally in gratitude these days.

Not the performative kind, but the grounded, everyday kind. Gratitude for health. Gratitude for the work I get to do and the communities I serve. Gratitude for a family that lovingly rolls with my holiday enthusiasm. And gratitude for the simple, irreplaceable privilege of having people to welcome home.

This year, my blessings feel especially clear:

I am thankful for laughter, love, and lights—lots of lights. I am thankful for a husband who climbs ladders without complaint. I am thankful for kids who still choose home. And I am thankful for the quiet, ordinary moments that remind me why gratitude matters.

Wishing you a Thanksgiving filled with people you love, traditions that anchor you, and at least one good laugh around the table.