Wrangler Dani

At Thanksgiving, I always think of the Holmes family. I was 18 and feeling lonely – here I had boldly taken off for parts unknown, but once I found myself in a warm Texas fall with what felt like no end in sight, I was inexplicably homesick for Oregon chill and my own family’s traditions. Megan and I sat next to each other in our freshman Bible class, and after a disastrous group project we knew we’d each found a kindred spirit in each other. When she heard I had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, she insisted that I come home to Dallas with her. On the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, we piled pillows and suitcases and sweatshirts into her tiny, sensible white car and made the three-hour drive to the Metroplex.

I quickly discovered a couple of important things about Megan – she is an amazing conversationalist (something I always value in a friend), she is unbelievably generous, and she is a truth-teller. When I met her family, I was instantly enveloped in the same loving honesty and generosity – quickly making me feel comfortable and like part of the family. I was not excluded from jokes and teases, nor treated like an honored guest – I helped make shrimp cocktail, do dishes, set the table and light the candles just like all the other Holmes kids – and it was the best thing that ever could have happened to my lonely heart.

I went back to the Holmes every year for Thanksgiving until we graduated, and a couple of Easters too. Every weekend I spent with Megan and her family was another lesson in friendship, kindness and hospitality done right. Whether it was late-night chick-flicks in the living room, long talks, helping with dinner preparation, driving all over the Metroplex, going shopping or after-turkey adventures in the neighborhood park, they overflowed with playfulness, friendship, hospitality and sincere generosity.

I credit Megan and the Holmes family for teaching me how to host, how to welcome with open arms and how to exude warmth without losing honesty. Years later, I still tell people about them, and every fall, I get a twinge of homesickness for the big stone entry-way, and Megan and I tumbling into the house in an giddy, breathless pile of laughter and curly hair, met with hugs and smiles from her mom, jokes from her dad, and invitations to shop, talk, and cook from the rest of family, in a flurry of holiday energy. I’m so grateful for their friendship and influence on my life. Megan had no idea that her simple invitation of Thanksgiving dinner to a out-of-town acquaintance would blossom into a deep friendship and a long tradition, and today, I’m so grateful that she took the moment to invite me anyway, and teach me about hospitality by example.