Fragile Miracles: reflections for Thanksgiving week

I sat on a dear friend’s hospital bed on Friday. We held hands as she told me about the tumors they’d found throughout her body. My tear-soaked mask concealed the contorted face that one makes when the despair is so heavy. My brain begged my heart to be steady, but the sobs broke through and my broken heart took the reins. I couldn’t comprehend how her strong body could be riddled with cancer, or how  the world could go on without her in it.

Just weeks earlier I’d stood in disbelief as nurses hooked my husband up to machines and drew copious amounts of blood, suspecting a heart attack but discovering a stroke. Through confusion and numbness I texted my children words of encouragement, and where to find their socks. He lay with his eyes closed for a few days, mostly processing what had just happened, and the realization that this is how life goes sometimes – one minute you’re playing pickleball and the next you’re facing the fragility of this human experiment.

The list goes on, of course. My colleague just lost his mother. My beloved grandpa is on hospice. And one of the smartest, funniest, kindest people I know is coming to the end of his fight with cancer entirely too young. I can only imagine the countless other stories playing out amongst my friends, colleagues, and the stranger in line at the grocery store. We all come to realize, sooner or later, that this human business is fragile and must be handled with care.

And yet... in a few short days we will sit down to tables filled with food and family and we will give thanks. Our bodies will be nourished to continue on this journey for as long as we each have. And we will be thankful. We will laugh and be filled and know that this is the best day, because this is the day we were given. If we're lucky, and paying attention, the sun will catch the leaves just so and time will stop for a moment as we stare. We'll take a bite of pie or stuffing (or green rice if you're an Allen) that will remind us of Grandma and we'll feel her with us. We'll eat until we're stuffed full and then laugh until our stomachs hurt and realize that these bodies are miracles, even if fragile miracles.