A Thanksgiving Kind of Fellowship

Growing up, Thanksgiving was my loophole holiday — the one time of year where I could eat every sweet in the house without a single side-eye from my mama. Sweet potato pie, pound cake, peach cobbler, banana pudding… baby, I would go from plate to plate like it was my assignment. My heart was full, my stomach was fuller, and somehow the sweetness always tasted better because the house was full of people.

I didn’t know it then, but that’s the real recipe of Thanksgiving:

a little food, a lot of love, and a house full of fellowship.

But somewhere along the way, things shifted. Fellowship started changing its shape. We grew up, families spread out, and technology got louder. And now, on a day that used to overflow with voices and laughter, many of us get a quick “Happy Thanksgiving!” text — short, simple, and sent to thirty people at once.

It’s not wrong… it’s just not the same.

There’s something about hearing someone’s actual voice — the warmth, the inflection, the familiarity — that a text message can’t mimic. There’s something about sitting elbow-to-elbow at a table that a FaceTime call can’t ever fully replace. There’s something about passing plates, sharing pie, and reaching for the same serving spoon that reminds us:

we belong to each other.

And belonging is the heart of fellowship.

This Thanksgiving, as we gather with our people — or even if we’re gathering with ourselves — I want to invite us back into the practice of fellowship.

Not just being in the same room, but being present.

Not just sending a text, but making the call.

Not just “liking” the photo, but checking in for real.

Because fellowship isn’t only about food.

It’s about presence.

It’s about knowing and being known.

It’s about carving out space in a noisy world to say:

“I see you. I love you. I’m grateful you’re in my life.”

So this year, before the pies come out the oven, before the table is set, before someone asks who made the macaroni — take a moment to restore that old-school Thanksgiving touch. Call someone you love. Tell them you’re thankful for them. Use your voice the way we used to, when connection was slower and somehow stronger.

And as you eat to your heart’s content (because some things should never fade), may you also fill up on fellowship — the kind that warms you long after the plates are cleared.

Happy Thanksgiving, loves.

May your heart be nourished, your table be full, and your fellowship be restored.