An Unexpected Holiday Guest

We had no company coming for Thanksgiving, which is rare at the Seiling household. Just like my mom did, I tend to look for people to invite into our holiday festivities. Over the course of our marriage, we’ve had extended family, friends, near strangers, exchange students, and other families join us around our holiday table. But this year, I hadn’t felt the nudge to invite anyone. They all seemed to have solid Thanksgiving plans.

As I drove home from work on Thanksgiving Eve, I felt a little disoriented. Usually, this night is full of baking pies, cleaning the house, and creating a timetable for roasting the turkey and cooking all the sides so they’d be ready at the exact same time. The evening felt strangely empty, without all that pressure.

I also felt a little lonely. Memories of past Thanksgivings passed through my mind, and the nostalgia shifted to a sense of sadness over what used to be. I wondered if this is a part of growing older; if my holidays would always be overshadowed by a thickening veil of melancholy.

Then, I remembered the truth. This was Thanksgiving, a holiday about giving thanks to God—and I had a lot to be thankful for. As I ran through a list of those things in my mind, I recognized how easily darkness can sneak in and steal the holidays. I told the darkness to go, in the name of Jesus, and asked the Holy Spirit to help me embrace the holidays God had planned for me this year. And the darkness started to lift.

I’m beginning to notice there’s a difference between nostalgia—enjoying the gift of sweet memories—and longing for times and relationships that have passed. That longing can be a form of coveting, which leads to destructive thoughts. Instead of being present and enjoying all the current season has to offer, it makes you dwell in the past and on things that are unobtainable. On that little seven-minute drive home, I resolved to try to see these holidays in a different way.

I arrived at home grateful that my son was home from college, and our little family was together under one roof. Since they closed the office early, there was time to make pies before dinner. That felt like a Thanksgiving gift, in itself. Maybe after the pies were baked, I’d have a lazy night on Thanksgiving Eve—something I haven’t experienced since childhood.

As I cleaned the kitchen, Rich filled me in on his day, then casually said, “Oh, there was a very cute cat at PetSmart today.”

I paused and looked at him. His voice was nonchalant, but his eyes were sparkling.

“A cat? What kind of cat? Is it a kitten? What color?” I asked.

“She was adorable,” he said. “The sign said tortoiseshell and white, and she’s about three or four years old. She had the prettiest markings!”

I’m an easy sell, when it comes to adopting cats. But Rich? Not so much. He is always the one to say, “No, we don’t need another pet,” when I fall in love with one at the pet store. So, for him to casually mention a cat like this—that was truly unusual.

“It seems you really like this cat,” I said.

“I’m not saying we should get the cat,” he insisted. “I just wanted to let you know about her, in case you were interested. Oh, and her name is Hazel.”

The idea of making pies early was quickly forgotten and replaced by a new mission: Go see the cat. We drove to PetSmart with two kids in tow and had the cat carrier, just in case we needed it.

Of course, Rich was right. Hazel was a sweet, kind cat who instantly began purring when we started to pet her. Her markings were beautiful, and though we had no intention of adopting a cat on Thanksgiving Eve, that’s exactly what we did. Sometimes the best pets aren’t the ones you seek out, but the ones who seem to present themselves to you.

We got home too late for baking pies. I realized if we had company coming for Thanksgiving the next day, I wouldn’t have had time to spontaneously go to PetSmart to look at a cat. I would have been busy cleaning, baking, and planning.

Instead, God had other plans. He knew there was a sweet cat who needed a new family—one who was open to an unexpected holiday guest. Just a few hours earlier, I’d been feeling sad and nostalgic. I didn’t know that just ahead, there was a brand new memory waiting to be written: the Thanksgiving Hazel came home.