Finding Thanksgiving Joy in the Absence of Family

I will always feel grateful for the Thanksgiving none of my adult children could come home. That happened two years ago and changed my perspective on a holiday that focuses on being with family. Not that I didn’t want my family with me. But distance separated us and, for the first time ever, none of my three children would be in Minnesota.

I could choose to feel sad and alone. Or I could choose to do something that would make others happy. Something that would fit the spirit of giving and of gratitude.

On that Thanksgiving Day in 2016, my husband and I drove to the local American Legion, site of the annual free Community Thanksgiving Dinner. There we joined a long line of volunteers waiting to deliver turkey dinners in our city of some 24,000. 

I had no idea what to expect. But I was determined to deliver a hot meal with holiday hospitality and graciousness. I didn’t realize how much I, too, would benefit.  

From a mobile home to a condo to an apartment to single family homes, we brought not only food, but also holiday happiness: To the woman recovering from pneumonia with her husband in the hospital. To the woman I never saw and whose meal I left on the kitchen counter per her shouted instructions to also take a $5 donation for charity. To the woman who answered the door in her bathrobe. To the woman who waited outside her apartment building for us. All welcomed us with gracious gratitude. 

I experienced a sense of overwhelming blessings. There is great joy in serving others.

The following year I knew exactly where I would be when, once again, our grown children could not be with us on Thanksgiving. Randy and I returned to the Legion, gathering Styrofoam containers of food to deliver around town.

Once again, grateful folks welcomed us, including Bea (not her real name). I knocked on her back door, then eased it open before entering a galley kitchen. Bea shuffled toward us, her smile bright with greeting. She directed us to place the containers—one holding a traditional turkey dinner, the other a slice of pumpkin pie—on the seat of her walker. Instead, we set the boxes on the counter and I offered to carry both to the table. 

Bea peeked at the pie, which drew her praise. Seeing her delight, I lifted the lid on the larger box to reveal shreds of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, green beans, a dab of cranberries and a dinner roll. Bea’s smile widened wider.

The petite senior pulled silverware from a drawer. I followed her to the table with dinner and dessert, placing the boxes where she pointed. And then I bent close, spontaneously wrapping this appreciative woman in a hug. She held on and cooed and I nearly cried for the joy of the moment, of holding Bea close.

I remain thankful for that moment with Bea, for the blessing of serving her and, in return, experiencing great joy.

This Thanksgiving, Audrey Kletscher Helbling will gather around her dining room table with her husband, eldest daughter, son-in-law and 2 ½-year-old granddaughter. If her daughter wasn’t eight months pregnant, she’d suggest volunteering at the community Thanksgiving dinner.