Food shopping is usually a dalliance for me. I like to peruse the products while sipping my morning coffee, leisurely making my selections and singing along (quietly) to the soundtrack that appears to be targeted toward middle-aged women like me. I was completely unprepared for the holiday humanity that ambushed me in the grocery store this weekend, feeling naked without my patience and grace which I unwittingly left at home.
It seemed every spouse who has never set foot in this hallowed place decided to accompany the accomplished shopper of the family. Someone needs to give lessons in the proper protocol before allowing these amateurs into this space. Carts abandoned in the middle of aisles; couples in matching Chicago Bears jerseys crowded around packages of rolls arguing over how many they’d need to bring to mom’s house. Was there really not a single jar of pumpkin pie spice to be found in this cavernous warehouse? I only need one teaspoon.
People talk about grace being such an important component of happiness. I think that’s right. But it seemed noticeably absent in the store. Here we all are shopping for a common purpose, this giant communal meal to give thanks. We should feel some sort of connection, a generosity of spirit, yet all I could muster was frustration. And I’m not alone in this. Has this day of thanks become a perpetual perdition, not only in the shopping, but in the way every aspect of the day is colored: Inviting guests, belated RSVPs, cooking the meal, what time to eat, relatives who can’t get along; is everything achingly short of perfect?
I have only one prescription to cure our self-inflicted woes on this day because if you get this one right, everything else falls away: Be where you can be your best self, with people you love who love you in return.
In order to really do this you need to stop thinking about obligations and what others expect, and start thinking about surrounding yourself with those who bring out the best in you, those who truly enrich your life. Why are you attending a traditional family dinner that makes you miserable every year? Why are you begrudgingly opening your house up to the extended family? Are you savoring the celebration or just looking to get it over with as quickly as possible?
I didn’t say this was easy, by the way.
A few years ago I decided it was time for a new family tradition, taking my boys to my dad’s house out west for the week. On our first visit we were invited to join my dad and his desert family at a party hosted by some of their friends. It was the strangest concept ever to me. Was I really going to share this dinner with people I’d never met? We dined alfresco a la Martha Stewart Living, the surroundings breathtaking and the company delightful. My boys covered their laps with white napkins while waiting for everyone to be served before picking up their forks. Who knew? We walked into this home with open hearts ready to embrace the day. And what do you know, we had a great time.
There is something to be said for being grateful every day. This one day is meant to be symbolic of the other 364 in the year, not the end all be all. If you don’t get this one quite right, it doesn’t mean you can’t do it again next week over burgers and fries. There’s nothing preventing you from having your own eclectic feast whenever you want with a handful of the wonderful people in your life.
This year I’m spending my day with loved ones who are always in my corner. I know the food will be delicious no matter what’s on the menu because we’re making it together with that secret ingredient called extra love. Appreciation will be top of mind with a call out to those intangibles that make life worth living: My freedom along with the wisdom and courage that allows me to use it to find happiness, the coveted role I play in helping my boys reach their potential, the family and friends who remind me every day that I bring value into this world. The grocery store playlist comes to mind as well, the one that includes “Annie’s Song”. It is a most unexpected place for a reminder of my mother. She liked to make the stuffing. I miss her sometimes.
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