We had such a wonderful Thanksgiving. It was absolutely full to the brim with loved ones, good food, good conversation, laughter, and joy.

Our festivities began on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, when my sister flew in to spend her break with us. Michael played an entire morning and afternoon with Aunt Boo while I prepared the house for guests. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of their games of chase or fort building. Sunday, dear family friends came into town.

Monday, my in-laws arrived: Michael loved spending time with Oma and Opa and Uncle James (even if it took him a little bit to get warmed up at first).

Tuesday was my grandfather’s 80th birthday, and after the busyness of the day we all wandered up to the Grand House and sang happy birthday to him in harmony.

Wednesday, more family friends arrived and my brother flew in as well. Michael loved reading books and playing organ and piano with Uncle Jon.

My dad’s Thanksgiving turkey is renowned among our family and friends for being tender and flavorful: he’s got his cooking method down to a science. Michael was thrilled to help with the brining process, and helped with both turkeys (we needed two for the crowd we expected on Thanksgiving!)

Thanksgiving morning my sister-in-law was able to fly in from Utah and join us! As always, where Fentons congregate, music follows. Our piano got more use this week than it’s seen in a while, and it was lovely to hear many renditions of Heart and Soul and different improvisations ringing through our cottage.

Cooking preparation was split between houses, and our house took care of the pumpkin and apple pies, rolls, and cranberry sauce. My mother-in-law’s apple pies are incredible, and she helped me make pie crust for my pumpkin pies. I used a new recipe this time, and it turned out excellently (if I do say so myself). Jake is the expert bread baker in this household, so he made his rolls (a family friend’s recipe). He made them the first Thanksgiving he joined our family, and now it’s an indelible tradition.

Looking at the food spread out for Thanksgiving dinner, I felt as though I had fallen into a Redwall feast. If you, too, grew up reading Brian Jacques’ Redwall series, you know he was famed for his delicious descriptions of food. We had spiced red wine cranberry sauce, bacon wrapped green beans with rosemary, two huge and fragrant turkeys, mashed potatoes with pools of golden butter, pastry wrapped baked Brie with pomegranate jam, pumpkin and custard and walnut and apple pies, homemade whipped cream — and so much more.

All in all, there were 34 people around our tables on Thanksgiving Day. And it was a glorious, beautiful sight. I have hardly any photos from the actual day, because we were so busy prepping and eating and spending time with our loved ones. We have a tradition of taking photos every Thanksgiving with my mother’s good camera: we haven’t had the chance to download them yet, so I have no photos of the entire group. Here’s a snap of the chaotic group photo taking process!

The day after Thanksgiving is possibly my favorite day of all. The majority of us are introverts (including extended family and friends). As much as we love the joy of Thanksgiving, the day after is a day to rest and rejuvenate. We sat outside by the fire pit for almost the entire day, and read or talked or sat in silence.

Cornhole games were played, archery was practiced. I spun on my Turkish spindle. It was a very good, very peaceful day.

Every single bed, couch, air mattress, and spare room on our property was full. And it was glorious. It was a moment where everything we’ve worked for on this strange little homestead of ours felt right.

Some people don’t understand what we are doing here: I’ve gotten my share of snide comments about “still living with my parents” (despite having our own home, parcel of the property, and mortgage). But whenever I begin to wonder if I’m crazy for doing this, weeks like this happen. I’m so grateful we live in community so we can pool all our resources and be a “third place”: a place for gathering and sanctuary and community; a place for prayer and rest and rejuvenation.

However, living in community isn’t idyllic, despite what blog posts and pictures may seem.

There is difficulty and pain and brokenness, and stress and short tempers and tears. The broken edges of our sin snag on the people around us, and their edges snag on us, and bit by bit, through reflection and prayers and the grace of God, we begin to sand down these broken edges and become who were are made to be. Here, our brokenness is seen most clearly and cuts the deepest, but here it also can be made whole.

But weeks like this week are exactly why we endure the crucibles parts of this undertaking; why we choose to live as four generations on five acres.

It’s weeks like this that make me so, so grateful.

I see gratitude as an act of defiance against the darkness. If you’ve been reading along with our journey on this blog, you know that we’ve had our share of grief and pain. There has been much darkness. But this week was light: joyful and defiant and shining against the brokenness of the world around us.

Glory to God.