Thanksgiving Then & Now: A Story of Gratitude & Grace
Holidays have a way of bringing everything into sharp focus—the memories we cherish and the ones that ache.
I remember Thanksgivings that felt like magic: working overnight at the hospital, coming home to wake everybody up, bundling us all up for the Turkey Trot to run 3.5 miles together, then racing home to get the turkey in the oven while starting everything else from scratch. Tending to four kids while creating a feast made with love—it was my dream. It was my life. It was perfect.
Then addiction stole it all. And it didn’t just take it from me—it affected everyone I love.
For so many Thanksgivings after that, I sat alone. The silence was deafening. The loss was unbearable.
But today? Today I wake up with something I didn’t have then: hope.
I’m so deeply thankful for my sobriety. For learning to love myself again. For waking up every day without having to chase anything except my purpose. I’m grateful for the incredible people who’ve walked this journey with me, for forgiveness, for redemption, and for the slow, beautiful work of rebuilding.
Most of all, I’m thankful to simply be alive.
This year, I was invited to Thanksgiving at my father’s house—the first invitation in years. It felt like coming home to a part of myself I thought I’d lost forever. Life had other plans (his wife got sick, bless her), so I’m cooking Thanksgiving at my own table this year, opening my doors to a few friends who would’ve been alone otherwise.
It’s going to be a good day. Different than those perfect Thanksgivings I once knew, but good in a way I couldn’t have imagined back then.
To everyone reading this: wherever you are today, whatever your table looks like, I hope you find something to be grateful for. Even in the mess, even in the hard stuff—there’s always something.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends. Keep going. 💛