Bayou Kidz | Grateful for Our Heritage

Article By Cindy G. Foust

Happy month of Thanksgiving, readers…I hope this finds you enjoying the wonderful cool snap we are finally having. I mean, we aren’t ready to break out the parkas or snow boots (that we so often wear here in the South), but at least the temperature has given us a reprieve, and it feels somewhat like fall. So, how are things going in the Bayou community? If you are like me and you’ve given any thought at all to the holidays, you can hardly believe it’s time to start thinking about cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. It seems like we were just sitting around waiting on the Hallmark Channel to release their 27 original Christmas movies, and BAM, here we are again. I have been on record in this column in declaring this season as my favorite time of year, and I am back with that same seasonal stance. I actually walked into our home last night, and my daughter, who is a chip off the old block, had all the candles burning and a good holiday movie on that she was watching with her best friends, under cozy blankets. In a word…heaven. There’s really nothing like the holiday smells, particularly fall, to transport me back to my childhood on 246 Ollie Caples Road. As I get older, I long for the quiet, simple days of my youth, when the worst problem you had was who you were going to sit by on the bus. Life has rocketed me into my  59th year in what seems like the blink of an eye, but the oldest child of four, living on a dirt road right next to my grandparents, is never far from my thoughts. Many of the people who helped shape my life are no longer here, one of whom is my maternal grandmother. “Bitsy” was the quintessential holiday grandparent, who made sure the family gathered around the table, or on the floor in the living room, because we all couldn’t fit around the table. Her home wasn’t full of expensive furniture or the size of Rhode Island, but it was glorious sitting on top of that hill. And it was everything a home should be…steadfast, safe, and full of love. The smells of the holiday season might trigger me, but these triggers are rooted in the memories that were lovingly created by the family who loved us so. And boy am I grateful for this heritage. In what is the distinctive month of the year where we should all stop and talk, or think, about the things we are grateful for, I find myself really leaning into my family roots. I think a lot of it is that I am especially missing my daddy right now. You know how that is, readers, how you ebb and flow in the grief cycle? You never get “over” the loss of someone that you loved so much, but you move into a cadence where you are on autopilot and able to cope with the hard days. And the holidays, while they can trigger the good stuff, the fond memories, they can also trigger the ones you work hard to suppress. Listen, I don’t want to suppress my holiday memories, but for me, as the direct descendant of someone who made holidays a priority and enjoyed them to the fullest extent, it can really make you miss your daddy a little more. With that little background, readers, knowing I am feeling both nostalgic and a little sad, and taking us down memory lane to my country home, I want to be clear that the real gratitude I feel is that I got to grow up (all the way to two years ago when my daddy went to heaven) in a family that gave me what I needed to raise my own. It gave me values and strength and taught me to prioritize the family that God has blessed me with. It taught me that no tradition is too stale or silly and that traditions that start in your home are the ones that your kids expect and depend on. I don’t know about you, but our traditions look different in some ways, then they did when Bitsy was at the helm, but the core of our holidays is still the same…family, food, and being together. I’m also grateful that I married into a family that made holidays special, that kept us rooted in family time and just being together. And now, well, I am the grandmother, incidentally, deriving my grandmother name in case you missed it, from my own grandmother’s moniker for me, “Lulu.” And what I wouldn’t give for Bitsy to be able to see our girl, to be standing in her kitchen waiting on us to hand Britton off to her…or Big Daddy sitting in his chair waiting on his turn to hold her. There’re no doubt readers I’m in my feelings this month, but don’t judge. Simply nudge me along, like you do each month when I’m allowed to bring my family into your homes, when I’m allowed to share my feelings, hopefully not just for the sake of sharing, but for the sake of giving you your own nudge to stop and reflect. We are never too young, or too old, to understand the value of spending some time, your own quiet time, and reflecting on what you are most grateful for. Much of our answers will be the same, our families, our friends, good health (that’s a big one), good jobs, but the real message here is not to lose sight of the lives we are all blessed to have. Is it just me, readers, or did this column turn sappy and weepy when I could have been giving you my favorite recipes to cook for Thanksgiving or what outfit with matching lipstick I am wearing to Thanksgiving lunch (think…velvet sweat suit with elastic waist and Chapstick?) Happy Thanksgiving, readers. I am also most grateful to get to visit with you each month on the pages of this wonderful magazine. I pray your holiday season if filled with time spent with the ones you love the most.

Cindy G. Foust is a wife, mom, author and blogger. You can find her blog at the alphabetmom.com for weekly columns about home life,  parenting, small business stories and insight with a smidgen of literacy. Give her a like or follow on Facebook and Instagram.