Here it is; the end of another Thanksgiving in the books.  A Tupperware and tinfoil explosion has hit the fridge.  That last slice of sweet gluttony hidden from all eyes beckons me to dreamland until tomorrow.  My reflection on the day makes me even more thankful for such bountiful food, loving family, a good home full of similar memories.  One memory in particular drew tears to my eyes.  For you see, this was the first Thanksgiving without my paternal grandmother.  While her kitchen has now become my mother's, I am surrounded by her memory. The same woman taught me to make apple pies at age 3. So, with the same apple pie recipe, my daughters gathered round to help me prepare in my own kitchen: a recipe which there are no measurements.  As I pulled our pie from my grandmother's oven, I realized it's the first apple pie since her passing. It was made from the apples harvested earlier this fall from the very tree I looked out upon from the kitchen window as I lifted it from the heat.  In that moment, looking over the old apple tree, I saw the future of my daughters' daughters and their daughters forging apple pie memories with their grandmothers.  I can't recall but maybe one or two toys she ever gave me, but I remember every word of wisdom she shared through my life over pie crusts and coffee in that kitchen.  More than a few pieces of my heart rolled down my cheeks as I said goodbye to another part of my grandmother, and hello to new beginnings.  I am thankful for her gift of memories and time.   I am reminded of Ecclesiastes 3:

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
    a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
    a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
    a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
    a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
    a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

With the season of Christmas now official, we each face our own myriad of emotions because we are each in our own journey of 'our time.'  I wish each of you comfort and peace as you may encounter your own recipe moments in the coming weeks.  

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