My First Thanksgiving as a Real Grown-Up

I survived my first holiday without my parents. It was my first Thanksgiving as a real grown up, where my sisters and I were the oldest generation at the table, and nobody was there to tell us what we needed to do. Although it started with a clogged drain at midnight last night and ended with a movie marathon, it was just like every other Thanksgiving before, only Mom and Dad weren't here. I think that familiarity is the reason behind traditions. Through the repetition of the past, we provide ourselves with continuity for the future.

I was thinking as I was shopping for the ingredients for our usual corn pudding and my mom's apple pie, that this could be the year we could have taco bar instead of turkey. We could have spaghetti and meatballs instead of sweet potato casserole. Pineapple upside down cake instead of pumpkin pie. Heck, throw it all out the window and just go out to eat. It'd save everyone a lot of work and pump money into the local economy besides.

But then where would we be in 50 years when I'm gone and my kids are taking over? Who would know what to do? My mom and dad taught us well, and my sisters and I knew just how to make it our traditional Thanksgiving. Jennifer baked the turkey and made Mom's sausage stuffing. Colleen made the cranberries, sweet potato casserole, and green beans. I made Mom's corn pudding and mashed potatoes. We had Mom's apple pie, pumpkin pie, and chocolate pie for dessert. Same menu as always for as long as I can remember. It brought us comfort and continuity and made Mom and Dad seem almost here.

Jennifer and her kids came down and spent the night. When she and I were cooking yesterday, my girls would ask, "Is this Grandma's recipe?" whenever I was getting a dish together. "Yes," I'd say. "We have this every Thanksgiving." I want them to know that we are the keepers of our traditions, and someday, it will fall to them, as the women of the family, to carry on. I want them to be as well-prepared as I was. I want their children to eat sweet potato casserole and sausage stuffing and corn pudding and ask, "Was this Grandma's recipe?" and they will respond, "No, it was your great-grandma's!" And someday, when Kirk and I are no longer on this earth, I want my kids to take comfort in the fact that they know what to do. Even though they will miss us like crazy, they can still feel us with them in the food on the table and the traditions surrounding it.

I miss you, Mom and Dad!

What do you say?

On Wednesday, Kyle got a text from Felix Lukose, Finoy's brother, asking if he could call Kyle later.

The visit on Saturday was exhausting but good. The family arrived about 4:30 and stayed close to an hour. It was the oldest brother, Felix, his cousin, Jince, and the cousin's wife, and Finoy's mom and dad, Dottie and Phillip. We had snacks and drinks, but they had already eaten, so they only wanted water, so after we got that, we settled into the living room to talk.

Kirk and I waited for them to start the conversation because they were the ones wanting to see us, but we were just kind of sitting there, and nobody was talking. Finally I asked how the drive was. Fine. I asked if they had already been to Glenmary Farm, and they said yes, so I led in with, "That must have been very hard..." Thankfully that gave them the permission I guess they needed to start the conversation about it.

I think it was healing for all of us. I heard Kyle tell details that I had not heard before, and his explanation of things helped make peace for the parents and for us. They wanted to know how Kyle met Finoy, what kind of things they did the last couple of days, the details about some tent the boys were trying to build. Dottie wanted to know if they had gone to mass during the first couple of days. The dad wanted to know the kinds of things they talked about.

Kyle shared how he has been inspired by Finoy's life to do more service, how he volunteers burying the indigent and with the service club at school. goes to Friday mass...just tries to be a better person because that's how Finoy was.

They said that they saw at the farm earlier in the day how Glenmary is letting the grass grow over the path and has increased the security around the access road. The volunteers are no longer able to go swim in the creek. They wanted to know about the conditions in the creek the day of the incident and how high the water was both on Sunday and Monday and then on Tuesday.

Then the dad asked if Finoy struggled a long time or just went right under (went under quickly) and if he yelled for help (no). Jince said, "Well how could anyone know he was in trouble if he didn't yell for help?"

Jince said he had gone to the farm the day after Finoy drowned and commented on how brown and dirty the water was. He asked Kyle if it was that way all week. Kyle said yes. Jince said that there was no way anyone could see anything in the water and asked if the rescuers were just feeling for Finoy. Kyle again said yes. He replied, "Maybe if the water had been clear, things would have been different because we could have seen him..."

Kyle shared how he himself had gotten sucked under earlier in the week at a different location but was able to push off the bottom and come up because it wasn't that deep (made ME sick to think of.) He said that is what he thought Finoy would too, do but he didn't realized the spot was 20 feet deep. (We saw Adam Brewer at church last night, and he said the same thing happened to him. We are very lucky that one of our boys didn't drown.)

Felix called later when he got home and said that piece of information really gave them some peace because if Kyle, who is a 6', 180 pound athlete, could get sucked under, how much easier would it have been for the much smaller Finoy to go down.

Felix told Kyle that they all wanted to thank him for what he did to try and help Finoy. He said, "Even though the outcome was not what we all would have wanted, that does not make what you did any less heroic. By going after Finoy, you put yourself at risk, and we want you to know that we are eternally grateful for that."

Then Phillip gave Kyle some of the holy cards from the funeral with Finoy's picture and bible verse on them. He also gave Kyle a newspaper from St. Ignatius that had been dedicated to Finoy and had his friends' reflections in it. Felix gave Kyle a wrist band with "RIP Finoy "Thomman" Lukose" on the outside and "For the greater glory of God" (Finoy's favorite quote) on the inside. We hugged and cried again, and they left about 5:45 or so.

It was a very, very exhausting but powerful experience. I hope it has brought everyone some healing. I think it did. Kyle said he feels better after talking to them. He knows that they know that he tried.

I was so tired after they left that I just didn't talk for about an hour and a half. Now, I can't quit talking about it.

God Moments

I had a God Moment today.

My neighbor, Theresa, came over while I was out raking leaves to see how things were going with the sale of Dad's house. Things are not going well. I have had so much anxiety with these buyers and the closing and dividing things up that I have been unable to sleep. I can't remember people's names. I can't sleep. I worry, worry, worry. While I was sharing that with Theresa, one of our new neighbors was out for a walk. We waved, and he continued on.

I went back to raking leaves, and the neighbor, Jameel, was on his way back down the street. I spoke to him, and he walked over. Jameel is an elderly man from Pakistan. He is visiting his son and daughter-in-law, who live in Louisville. They are Muslim.

I asked if they enjoyed Halloween. He said they had candy to give out to the children and that they had a similar celebration in his village in Pakistan when people get married. Then he asked me why I put a graveyard on my lawn and what RIP meant. I struggled as to how to explain just why we decorated the way we did. The best explanation I could come up with was that it was our way of mocking death. To say something like, "We are not afraid of you..." type of thing. I was hoping I wasn't sounding like a crazy, sacrilegious American.

Jameel said that in his religion, they are not afraid of death. He said that he believes that his body is made of water, clay, and spirit. The water and clay come from the earth and will return to the earth when he dies. The spirit comes from God and will return to God when he dies. "We use the earth to nourish our bodies, and we worship God to nourish our spirits."

I remarked that our faiths were much the same because I believe the same things. We talked about his belief in the Bible and that Jesus was a prophet, and in Mohammad.

I told him that I enjoyed talking to him and that I thought the world would be a better place if people of different faiths and cultures would talk to one another and learn from each other. I said, "We'd see that we all want the same things...Peace, happy families, healthy children..."

He said, "Do you know how to have peace?" He looked me in the eyes, and I felt right then that I was talking to a holy person. His essence exuded a type of wisdom and calm that I have rarely seen. All I could think was, 'This is a very holy man."

He smiled, "To have peace, you cannot worry. Why do we need to worry? God will provide." He went on to tell me that he had had 3 cars stolen from him in Pakistan. He said, "Did I worry about it? No! I believed that God had a plan for me. I looked down and said to myself, 'I have two legs. I can walk.' So I did. Do you know that I got all 3 cars back?"

I remarked that he must be a man of great faith. He looked at me again and said,

"I think to myself, God was providing for me before I was even conceived. In my mother's womb, He made a place for me with blood, and after I was conceived, it nourished me as I grew. When I was born, He had made that my mother would nourish me with her milk. Did she do that? No! It was God's plan! If God has taken that much time to provide for me before I was even born, how much more will he provide for me now that I am a man? My friends say, 'Jameel, why are you so happy? Why are you always smiling?' I say to them, 'What do I have to worry about? God will provide.'"

I asked that he stop by when he's walking if he ever sees me out. He said he is going back to Pakistan next week. I asked him to stop by whenever he is in Kentucky. He replied he'd be back next summer, "God willing." Then he said, "I have taken too much of your time tonight. I should let you get on with your work."

I looked at him and said, "I believe God sends people into our lives to tell us things we need to hear. I needed to hear what you said today. Thank you!"

He replied, "You are welcome. Peace be upon you."

"And peace to you," I answered.

He turned to continue his walk home, and I resumed raking my leaves with tears running down my cheeks. I knew that I had just received a message from God via an elderly Muslim neighbor from Pakistan. God sure works in weird and wonderful ways.

Peace.