"There's no place like being known..."

"Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays
'Cause no matter how far away you roam
When you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze
For the holidays, you can't beat home, sweet home..."
-Al Stillman

It was the week before Thanksgiving, 1979, and it was going to be the first year in my life that I would not be with my mom for this favorite holiday, or to be more accurate, my favorite day of the year. 

Since dad's passing, she and I had worked together like left, and right, hands. We were a team, caring for and supporting, my seven younger siblings. And although her recent move to another state 1,200 miles away, had been a step of progress for us all, I was feeling lonely and adrift.

But then, I think we all were.  My next younger sister was on the opposite coast, and my brother was in the Air Force and stationed in a completely different part of the country. We were each feeling like loose halyards on a tallship's mast...each flapping aimlessly in the wind. 

The five youngest children were with mom in the Midwest, but it was a new community and they had only been there since the beginning of the school year. They'd yet to make any friends who might include them in weekend activities.

  Thanksgiving for our family was all about being together...praying, cooking, going to church, and playing games.  I didn't know how to "do Thanksgiving" without my mother…and I didn't want to learn. 

Long distance phone calls were expensive in those days, and I knew my budget would only allow for a short visit after the rates went down on Thanksgiving day. then, at the last minute, my sister was able to scrape up the fare for a plane ticket to fly out and surprise mom, and although I was thrilled for her, I couldn't imagine not being there too.  It was almost too much to bear when my brother called to tell me he'd been able to catch a flight from his base to the airport near mom, so now he, too, was going to be there to surprise her. 

I was a teacher, and since our Thanksgiving break was limited to a four-day weekend, it was hard to justify the exhorbitant cost of a ticket, for such a short visit.  It was money that could be better spent on mom's utilities or to help with the many other expenses associated with raising six children as a single working mom.

The plans I came up with for my weekend seemed like the "best under the circumstances," and I was determined to be at peace with them.  Even though a long-term relationship had recently ended, and I wasn't sure where I belonged emotionally, if it wasn't with my family.   So, in light of my new social standing,  and, as yet, shaky emotional landscape, I had volunteered to serve Thanksgiving dinner to the boys and girls at the state institution for developmentally disabled children where I was a teacher. 

Afterwards another teacher and I were going to go to the movies.  Yes, I told myself, it seemed like it would be a good plan.  And I could always look forward to calling mom, and the kids, in the evening once the rates went down…it was going to be okay...really.

But that afternoon, a week before Thanksgiving I wasn't so sure I was ready to "go it alone." Then I got a call from the my former sweetheart.  He wondered if I would like to meet him for bagels at our favorite bagel shop.  I said, "yes,
while wondering why we were doing this to eachother. 

It had been so clear, earlier that fall, that our relationship was changing, and that we needed space to figure out who we might be without the other. Neither of us knew how to transition from the two "halves" that we'd been since high school, into two wholes. But perhaps this was a first steo.

As I sat there waiting for him, I thought about all the Thanksgivings that we had shared at my mom's house.  I was so grateful for his willingness...over the years...to eat two big meals. 

He also came from a large family with eight children, and they were just as deeply devoted to their own family traditions, as we were.  Thanksgiving day for him had become a day full of driving between our family homes.  And as an avid football fan, he would often miss crucial moments in televised bowl games that his brothers would have to tell him about later. 

By the time he arrived at the bagel shop that day, my heart was full of appreciation for the years he'd sacrificed relaxing at home, for driving an hour to be with my family too.

  And as much as I knew that it was right for us, as a couple, to be going our separate ways, I was profoundly grateful for every moment we had spent together, as teenagers and young adults. In many ways we had helped each other just grow up. 

As he walked in, I immediately noticed the bouquet of flowers he was carrying. I was very concerned that he wanted us to discuss our relationship.  It was something that I was not yet prepared to do.  I knew that we needed much more time to sort through our feelings. And I wasn't ready to have that conversation yet. 

But as he sat down at the table, I realized that this wasn't what he had in mind.  The look on his face was one of absolute glee.  It was disarming.  And as he handed me the bouquet of flower tied with a wide satin ribbon, .  I could tell that he was barely able to contain his excitement. He pressed me to open the card that he placed in front of me, even before we ordered our food.

When I did I was speechless.  It contained a plane ticket to the Midwest, and one hundred dollars. 

He explained that since we wouldn't be spending Thanksgiving together that year, he wanted to be sure I was with my mom and siblings

.  He had worked it out with my sister and brother. We would all meet at the airport once our flights had all arrived, and we would be picked up and taken to mom's front door together, so that we could surprise her. 

The one hundred dollars was his gift. He wanted me to be able to help mom with the expenses of the weekend, once I got there.

  It was all worked out. Another volunteer would take my place in serving dinner to the children that day.  He had called the restaurant where I waitressed as a second job, he had made sure that my shifts were covered. 

I was going home for Thanksgiving!!.  In fact, he'd even made arrangements to get time off from his own job, so that he could take me to, and pick me up from, the airport about an hour away.  I was stunned. 

I knew how hard he worked at his job…and how modest his salary was.  I knew how many phone calls he must have made to arrange all the details.  This was not a gesture…it was a priceless gift of love.

He knew me.  He knew my heart.  This was one of the most selfless and generous gifts I had ever experienced. But for some reason it was unsettling.  I felt vulnerable and naked, I was the one who was supposed to be "the giver".  What did he want from me? 

But then I looked across the table, and into his eyes, and I knew immediately that  all he wanted was for me to know that he understood…and that he cared.  He wanted me to see him for the man he really was…generous, thoughtful, intuitive, and good.

I did go "home for the holidays" that Thanksgiving.  The look of surprise on my mother's face was priceless.  The hours of family warmth, love and laughter were nourishing and revitalizing.  And when my flight landed that following Sunday evening, he was there waiting at the gate (you could still do that then). 

I returned to my teaching invigorated and happy.  Eventually, he and I went our separate ways, a decision that was right for both of us.  But he'd given me another glimpse of what it felt like to be loved, and known. 

God had placed yet another angel in my life's path. And even though I have many lovely memories from that relationship, this is what I remember most when I think of him. 

The story of that Thanksgiving is rich with lessons of love.  This is just one of them…but it is the one I think of each time I remember that year. I am still so touched by his unconditional generosity and kindness. He knew my heart. 

To be known is to be loved.

His gift has given me over three decades of happy memories, but most of all, it gave me a glimpse of what it means to be truly known by another person…it is a gift I hope to recycle year-after-year.

with Love,   
Kate