Fall is my absolute favorite time of the year. I love the weather, the smell of the air, and the earthy colors everywhere. It is such a cozy, comfortable time of year. Most of us are settling in from busy summers to enjoy some rest before the frigid cold of winter albeit depending on where you live.
Thanksgiving is right around the corner. In school, I wasn’t much of a history buff. It wasn’t until I started homeschooling my family that I found a love for the rich history of Thanksgiving. Most holidays have become so commercialized that families aren’t even sure why they are celebrating what they are celebrating. The reason for the season is removed and has vastly become purposeless.
America has Thanksgiving wrong. It isn’t about turkeys and amazing bargains.
Thanksgiving birthed out of intense struggle, sickness, and death. Thanksgiving didn’t just happen.
I can remember the day so clearly. I was seven months pregnant leaving from a doctor’s appointment when I got the call. It was my mom on the other end of the phone, and she said, “You need to get to the hospital there has been an accident. I don’t know any details but please just get there as fast as you can.” Immediately I broke down; I knew this wasn’t going to be good.
We reached the hospital, and as I ran in frantically, it’s like they knew who we were. I said, “There’s been an accident.” The nurse came to my side and guided me to a small room. I had no idea what this room meant. I had never been in this situation before. My parents were in the small room waiting, and they delivered the news, “Chrissy Troy is gone.” I remember the pain in my heart; there was a physical pain I felt when I heard the news. I can only imagine what my parents felt. I remember having to tell each and every family member that arrived after me. It was the most painful experience of my life.