The leaves have turned. The air has turned colder. The days are shorter. There is an urgency to make the most of any weather that permits outdoor living. Winter is coming.

It is the time of year that family negotiations begin. Where shall we meet? How many will come? Who will bring food? The coordination is almost like planning the d-day invasion as the large family grows ever larger.

We find a weekend ahead of the holiday to visit and eat with my husband’s family. We rotate houses each year based on a holiday schedule written on a napkin and copied for each of the siblings to follow. The schedule has eliminated at least one round of holiday roulette.

My family descends on my parents house each year for a large meal. With location set, the major decisions revolve around food. We are a family of cooks. There is always more food than we can consume. This is doubly true because mom gets so excited that everyone is coming that she also cooks what she told us to bring.

My children are forming their own households. They will attend the Thanksgiving festivities or have their own celebrations depending on travel costs and work schedules. It is sometimes bitter sweet to celebrate with extended family while missing my own kids. But I am grateful that they are thriving in their own corners of the world.

Looking back, when we were younger, I dreaded Thanksgiving weekend. As a working mom, I had to cook a lot of food for two different family celebrations (Thursday and Saturday). I also used the time off work on Friday and Sunday to put up the Christmas decorations and clean up from the weekend.

It was a lot of exhausting work. The men scarfed down food while watching endless football games as the women cooked and cleaned up. Even though I love cooking and I love decorating for Christmas, I began to hate Thanksgiving.

I was exhausted and yearned for a pause. I wanted a moment in time where we could stop and savor all we were working for. I wanted a Hallmark moment. As each celebration fell short of my longing, I worked harder to try to create one by making more food and more decorations. Meanwhile the NFL and college conferences added even more games to create a month of never ending football. I began to hate football for stealing family moments. I already hated Thanksgiving for making me tired.

At some point it finally clicked. Thanksgiving isn’t about the food, or the location, or who is in the room, or what we are watching, or whether people appreciate your efforts to make the day special. Thanksgiving is about understanding that what you have is enough. That in any moment, God’s provision is enough. That the moment as it exists is the gift and Thankfulness in that moment is an act of worship. I began to take joy in the acts of service instead of waiting for the imagined “perfect” holiday.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I still am supremely annoyed that I can’t seem to visit with any of my brothers without being interrupted with talk of touchdowns and interceptions. I still ponder the misogynistic society that normalizes women spending a third more time doing household chores than men (but that is down from one half…we should celebrate progress). I would also be lying if I didn’t share that I sometimes tell my husband to “get out of my kitchen” when I’m preparing the holiday meals. (Yes, I realize the irony.)

I can still work myself into a holiday frenzy. I still have anxiety attacks when things go awry and I don’t know how to fix them. I sometimes become sad when I haven’t seen my children or parents in a while. But mostly, I am thankful. Life can be hard, but each moment is a gift. God is great. God is good. I am learning to breathe deep and just say thank you. Jehovah Jireh. My provider. Your grace is sufficient for me.