Opinion

This month I have officially lived in Texas for 15 years – and I am still not used to how the holidays are celebrated. Growing up we usually spent Thanksgiving at my Aunt Judy’s house in Totowa, NJ. I remember the long dining room table decked out in every food imaginable with the turkey as the main centerpiece, ready to be carved by the man of the house. The Christmas tree was put up the next day and decorated by friends and family as we listened to Christmas music and drank eggnog. There was laughter and happiness that permeated the air.

DEVOTIONAL

We gathered around a pink casket in our small town cemetery. It was draped with pink and purple flowers of all different varieties, and their delicate beauty stood out in sharp contrast to the dirt, the sea of gray stones, the dry, yellowed Texas grass that covered the ground, and the reason that we were all gathered in this spot: to lay a beloved body under the earth. We sang old hymns and read Scripture, and then a tall man with gray hair stood to speak.