Thanksgiving has a way of stirring up so many layers in us.
For some, it’s a day wrapped in warmth, familiar recipes, and the comfort of gathering.
For others, it’s a day that carries an ache – the empty chairs, the strained relationships, the quiet griefs, the memories that sit just beneath the surface.
If this holiday feels complicated for you in any way, you are not doing it wrong.
You are simply human.
And your heart is welcome here.
Today on the porch, we make room for both:
the gratitude and the heaviness,
the abundance and the longing,
the laughter and the quiet tears that come when no one is looking.
Whatever this day feels like for you – joyful, heavy, peaceful, or somewhere in between – may you know that your feelings deserve gentleness, not judgment.
Sometimes gratitude doesn’t sound like a long list.
Sometimes it’s just a single breath:
“Thank You, God, for getting me through today.”
And that is enough.
Sometimes grace looks like stepping away from loud rooms to regroup.
Sometimes it looks like saying no.
Sometimes it’s choosing the smallest, kindest next step.
Wherever you are, I pray this for you:
God, gather us gently today.
Hold the ones who celebrate with joy,
and hold the ones who feel the weight of this season.
For those who are missing someone,
wrap them in a peace that softens the sting of absence.
For those walking through family tension,
give them courage, calm, and the freedom to protect their heart.
For those who feel lonely or overlooked,
remind them they are seen, valued, and deeply loved.
For the ones overwhelmed, grieving, tired, or unsure,
shine light into the places that feel dim.
Give them rest, and show them the small mercies tucked into the day.
And for all of us —
teach us to slow down, breathe deep,
and receive Your goodness in whatever way we’re able today.
Amen.

