Last Thanksgiving wasn’t exactly a traditional Thanksgiving for my family. Our youngest daughter, Ally, who is in fashion school in downtown Los Angeles, let us know that she wouldn’t be able to fly home for the holiday due to her full class load and demanding internship.
I was so sad when I learned that my baby girl wouldn’t be joining us at Nana’s (Jeff’s mother) for our yearly feast with the Fleetwood side of the family. Abby, who attends college only 30 minutes north of our home, would be there. All of our extended family would be there.
But, Ally would not.
It would be the first time that our little “Adams Family” wouldn’t all be together for Thanksgiving.
The more I thought about Ally spending Thanksgiving alone, the more I couldn’t stand it. So, as you probably guessed, I booked a flight to LA so that Ally wouldn’t have to eat turkey by herself.
I knew that Jeff and Abby would miss us, but they’d have each other and the rest of the fam. Ally would have no one if I didn’t make the trip.
I arrived in LA just two days before the holiday, and the more Ally and I talked about making a traditional Thanksgiving meal, the more stressed we became.
I had no idea how to prepare a turkey or cranberry sauce or sweet potatoes or pumpkin pie. I was always the one in charge of bringing rolls and soda. (You can’t really mess up on those two items.) Nana did all the heavy lifting.
“Mom, why don’t we volunteer at a local soup kitchen on Thanksgiving?” Ally suggested, after we had decided against cooking a traditional Thanksgiving meal for the two of us.
“Great idea!” I said, while searching the Internet for area soup kitchens where we could offer our services.
For the next 90 minutes, Ally and I called every soup kitchen and homeless shelter in the area, asking if they needed help on Thanksgiving, and not a single one needed us or wanted us.
We found out that apparently Thanksgiving is the one day when soup kitchens and homeless shelters have a plethora of people on hand to help. It seems everyone wants to “do a good deed” on that day.
So, our philanthropic plans were squashed.
However, during my Internet research of area soup kitchens, I ran across an advertisement for the First Annual Downtown LA Turkey Trot–a 5k and a 10k race–on Thanksgiving morning.
And for some reason, I blurted out, “We should run in the Downtown Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving!”
Ally, who has always been active and excelled in running, loved that idea. Before I knew it, we were registered for the race.
Oh no, I thought. What have I gotten myself into?
I mean, I teach cardio fitness classes at our local gym. I am certified to teach Zumba. And, I occasionally hit the treadmill to jog a few miles (just enough so that my jeans still fit) but I wasn’t sure I could run over 3 miles all at once without dying or wanting to die.
Still, I was too prideful to admit to Ally that I wasn’t sure I was in shape enough to Turkey Trot with the uber-fit LA folks, so on Thanksgiving morning, I put on my running shoes and best running outfit, put my hair up, and put on a fake smile as we headed out the door to the race site.
After we picked up our race numbers, we made our way through the many racers already warming up for the run. It was a chilly, brisk morning in downtown LA, and yet there were runners wearing tutus and little else. Gotta love LA!
And, many had dressed up as pilgrims, turkeys and Native Americans in honor of the First Thanksgiving. Pretty cool.
The longer we mingled, the more comfortable I felt. My fake smile turned into a real one as a woman with a lovely voice sang the National Anthem. Ally and I nodded at each other as if to say, “So glad we’re doing this.”
I prayed a quick prayer, and the starter gun fired.
We were off!
Ally and I kept a pretty good pace. I was running on pure adrenaline by the end of mile 2. Who knew downtown LA had so many big hills?!
I was feeling pretty good about myself when a little girl no more than six zipped past me with her parents.
OK, so I’m probably not winning a medal today. But, I will finish!
Just when I was about to give in to my urge to walk, Ally yelled, “Look, there’s the finish line! We’re almost there!”
Yes!
I realize it was only a 5K, but I have never felt such a sense of accomplishment as when I crossed that finish line with my daughter beside me.
We hugged each other and high-fived a few well-wishers as we awaited our participatory hats and medals.
It certainly wasn’t the traditional Thanksgiving we were used to, but it was a special memory Ally and I would always have, and for that, I was truly thankful.
Pray this with me:
Father, I want to thank You for this holiday. And, even if my plans aren’t very traditional; and even if my relatives bicker over silly stuff; and even if I spend Thanksgiving alone this year; I want to thank You for my many blessings.
I realize that my plans aren’t always Your plans, so I give this Thanksgiving to You. Direct my steps, Lord, and help me to keep a grateful heart this holiday and every day. In the Mighty Name of Your Son, Jesus, Amen.
