As I was ending my day at work today, I starting thinking about the years and years of Thanksgiving where it was lonely and sad. The holidays would roll around and even though I knew better than to not be thankful; I was still longing and lonely.
Would this be the last Thanksgiving I would be alone?
How did this become my life?
I had always for the most part made good choices, done the right thing, loved Jesus and prayed for that mate, but as I approached thirty - still I would find myself making that hour trip from Nashville to Clarksville to have Thanksgiving. And as much laughter as there were naps, I had an ache in my heart because I made the trip alone.
And I would go back home that evening alone. To an empty, decorated perfectly house - to most likely watch a Christmas movie all about love and cry myself to sleep. But in those tears all those years, the hope still remained that the next year would be different.
That my story would start.
One year, I could feel myself loosing it, as my dad said the blessing, after he said "amen" I had big crocodile tears in my eyes waiting to drop; and my sweet dad hugged me and said, "don't cry Jessica. He's coming. I've been praying for him all your life." I had never talked to my dad about the condition of my heart, but as parents go...they always know.
That was the last Thanksgiving my heart was lonely, because just a few months later I would meet Brad and he would fill my heart. That heart of mine that had prayed and cried and asked God, "When? When is it going to be MY turn?" and so on this Thanksgiving, the very first Thanksgiving that all my prayers finally came true -
My heart is thankful.
My heart is full.
My heart is happy.
p.s. and in all those prayers, I would always pray for a husband who had an awesome family. And guess what?
My cup runneth over this Thanksgiving Eve.
(this post was sent from my iPhone, please excuse any errors.)