A Martha Thanksgiving

My daughter and her husband came in the house.
They were laden with the typical things you carry when arriving with three children.
The sweet potato casserole she made for our dinner was in a special zipped carrier.
The children went off to play.

After unloading most of her things, my daughter handed me a pile of cards.
The cards were made out of construction paper of various colors.
On each card was written the names of everyone sitting at our table that evening.
The handwriting was that of my oldest granddaughter who is 4 1/2 years old.

Bring back memories, Mom? My daughter asked, already knowing the answer.
She wanted to make these all by herself, my daughter continued.
I looked down at each card and saw all of our names.
My granddaughter worked hard on these place cards and was so proud of them.

I had set the table the night before.
I went into the dining room and put each card at the appropriate place.
It did bring back memories, since my own children used to make place cards for us.
In fact, I still have the last set of place cards they made in the drawer of my hutch.

My daughter called my granddaughter in to see where Grandma put her place cards.
I had already gone back into the kitchen and never saw her reaction.
Because we have a large family, I usually put all the food on the kitchen island.
We pray before our meal, everyone fills their plate, and then goes in to the dining room.

The children were at the table first, since their plates were prepared for them.
I went in and grabbed all the place cards and put them on the hutch.
For the life of me, I don’t know why I did that!
Maybe I was remembering, spills, messes, and smudges on many of our own cards.

Where did the cards go, Mom? My daughter asked.
I put them on the hutch so, they won’t get dirty, I answered.
Everyone got their plates and in minutes we were all sitting at the table.
The place cards were behind me, on the hutch, nice and protected.

I didn’t think any more about it.

After dinner, the kitchen was filled with dishes, pots, and pans.
The pumpkin pie was waiting to be sliced and served.
You girls go play while Grandma cleans up the kitchen, my daughter instructed.
My oldest daughter went to play with her nieces and others helped me in the kitchen.

It didn’t take long to clean up so the pies could be served on the kitchen island.
A slice of pie and a scoop of ice cream delighted my granddaughters.
My husband was happy, since pumpkin pie is his favorite.
The bulk of the clean up was done with more clean up inevitably to follow after dessert.

My daughter and son-in-love got the three children in pajamas, ready to go home.
She went into the dining room and grabbed the place cards off the hutch.
I knew she would want to keep them in her mom box, so she could remember.
I had done the same thing all those years ago.

It wasn’t until the next day I realized what I had done.
I missed some opportunities that I cannot get back.
What difference did it make if the place cards got dirty with turkey gravy?
Who would care if dishes were everywhere while we had our pie?

The better choice would have been to leave the place cards there during our meal.
We could all comment on their beauty while we ate our dinner.
They were seen but not enjoyed the way they should have been enjoyed.
If only we were able to grab back moments.

Pumpkin pie would be just as delicious in a dirty kitchen.
Remnants of our meal scattered about simply means that we all feasted together.
I was trying to do all that needs to be done to feed a crowd, even with lots of help.
This year, I missed opportunities to play and ooh and aah, which was more important.

Sometimes the task at hand is not really the task at hand.
Sometimes, the better thing is far simpler but much more meaningful.
Better and best.
Discerning between the two is really the main issue.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

I Martha-ed my way through Thanksgiving instead of Mary-ing.
The task at hand, which needed to be done, did not need to be done at that moment.
Little hearts, little eyes, and little ears were present.
I chose better but not best.

Everyone had a lovely time.
My granddaughters had fun at Grandma’s house.
I know in my heart that my choices were not in the right priority.
Lessons learned as we move towards Christmas.

With God’s help, I will choose best over better.
I will be a Mary a bit more than a Martha.
We need both; Jesus never condemned Martha because those things have to be done.
However, there is a better way: at the feet of Jesus, with my priorities being His priorities.