For the first time in my life, I find myself wishing that something upcoming would just hurry up and get here. I wish it were Thanksgiving. How I would love to have an excuse to spend all day in the kitchen with Mom, making dressing, baking pies, mashing sweet potatoes, and listening to music. The fire would be glowing in the fireplace and the house would smell of yummy things.
If I were to be completely honest with myself and you, I wish it could be Thanksgiving about three years ago. We still had my grandparents then. I was still in high school—my senior year. That was a good year. Not to say that this one isn’t great, because it is, but it seems that our family is so much smaller now than it was then.
I remember the last Thanksgiving we spent in my old house. I had begged to delay the move until Christmas break so we could have just one more Thanksgiving dinner in the split-level house in the middle of the woods. My grandparents were there. Most of our things were in boxes, but my family was there.
Then we moved. I remember spending the whole Christmas break unpacking boxes and painting and cleaning and arranging. My best friend Ozzie and I spent a whole day painting paw prints on the walls of my room while listening to Manheim Steamroller. We were freshmen.
Glory be. We were freshmen in high school.
And here I am, a junior in college, and still wondering if going backward would be better than going forward. Sure, I know “you can’t go back,” and all that jazz. Still, I can think of a few things I would have changed. There are some things I wouldn’t have done, wouldn’t have said, and some people to whom I never would have even said that first “hello.”
But, as I said, however much you may want to, you can’t go back. You can only go forward, trust God, and know that the best, after all, is yet to be.