First Thanksgiving, Stickered Redemption, and My Thankful Heart

      It was a quarter till noon when we pulled up to my grandparents’ historic three-bedroom house on a homely hill. My family of seven quickly cleared out of the car as soon as our silver Pacifica was parked. All at once it became the typical race to the doorbell as my sister and I launched ourselves off the log wall and bolted towards the front door. We'd hardly made it to the threshold when Caelyn came bounding behind us, riding on my older brother’s back. Despite the exhaustion evident in her eyes, she wore a smile that was contagious enough to clear the world of sadness. My siblings and I waited for my grandparents to open the front door as we stood shivering in the North Carolina winter. When they finally unlatched the door, Caelyn did not hesitate to leap through the crowd of massive people and hurl herself into our waiting grandparents’ arms. The moment of our arrival was saturated with joy as my youngest sister rang out in joyous cries of over-stimulation. “Happy Thanksgiving!” she screamed as her teeny feet flung dirt and dust into our amused faces. The rest of us unloaded the car and hustled after her into the warmth of my dad’s childhood home.

      The house began to swarm as cousins, aunts, uncles, great aunts, and other odd relatives filled the small home. My cousins and I met each other with hugs and squeals, thankful to see each other again after a year of waiting. Caelyn thrived as the center of attention for the entire weekend. Her broken English and boisterous laughter became the highlight of everyone’s thanksgiving. After a couple days of being cooped on in the house, my cousins and I decided to take a trip to the mall. Caelyn squeezed my hand, and let out a exuberant cry of consent at the word, “shopping.”

      “Caelyn,” my mom beckoned, “You can’t go with them. It’s almost bedtime.”

      Caelyn’s countenance collapsed; she stared up at me as tears filled her eyes. “Chelsey…” she wined as I watched a single tear well up and drip slowly down her cheek. I shook my head remorsefully and let go of her hand as we left the house. I walked behind the group, heart breaking as I heard my youngest sister crying behind us…

      The next morning I woke up to find a balled up piece of paper at the foot of my bed. I reached up for it and found another one. Slowly, I unwrapped the mysterious wads to find two halves of a barely legible, carefully crafted note that said, “FoRm CaelYn… to CHelsy.” My heart broke as I recalled the events of the night before. Caelyn had drawn me this picture and left it on my bed, but in her wrath had come up to my room after I left and torn and crumpled it up. I called my youngest sister to my room.

      “Caelyn…” She looked up at me with pain-filled eyes. “Did you make this for me?” Avoiding my gaze, she focused intently on the droopy ears of her bunny slippers. I smiled brightly as I exclaimed, “Caelyn. Look at me… this is beautiful. I love it!” She looked up at me with disregard before reverting her gaze once again. “Did you rip it because you were mad at me?” Bingo. She looked me straight in the eyes as tears began to well up in her big, brown, almond eyes. I swept her up in a huge hug. She kicked against me initially, fighting my affections; but slowly she melted into my arms. The tears kept coming. I plopped her on my bed and sat gazing into her eyes. “I love it so much, I’m going to fix it.” I left the room intentionally, knowing she’d be following me. We walked together down the stairs to my grandmother’s desk where we found a pile of assorted stickers.

     “I’m going to make it beautiful again.” 
     Caelyn watched me keenly as I flattened the paper, placed the two halves together, and used the stickers to keep them together. I held up the new creation, a beautiful rainbow of stickers, crayon, and her original letters, “FoRm CaelYn… to CHelsy.” I gripped it with pride and looked at her with joy. She saw my sincerity and gave me a powerful hug, softly whispering, “Yay! Sisters…” as I dried her tears. “Yeah, Caelyn. We’re sisters,” I spoke with gleaming eyes and a thoughtful grin.

      Once again my sister had taught me a valuable lesson of thanksgiving. I was humbled as I realized the symbolism of the scene. I am a broken masterpiece, redeemed by Christ, and treasured by the most high king. I held her drawing in my hand, mentally noting it as one of the dearest gifts I’d ever received. I hung it on my wall, titled it as “Stickered Redemption,” and marveled once again at God’s ability to use such an unaware seven year old to teach me what it means to have

A Thankful Heart.