Creating Thanksgiving

We spent an absolutely beautiful week at the beach as a family over Thanksgiving. We walked and swam and boated and played.

The kids got creative. Together they built an amazing lean-to—sticks by S, foundation by A. Then S kept embellishing the shelter while A turned to digging out (trying to dig out) a massive tree trunk buried under the sand. 

Mid-week, mid-boy in depth.

 At one of our first sunsets, the children invited a sweet toddler into their world, showing her as much as her shy self could handle. I could die happy thinking of my daughter’s smile as she coaxed the timid three-year-old into sharing her fun.

He started uncovering the trunk to the left.

Every night, S would sweep the sand inside the shelter so she could “see who visited overnight.” On one of the first mornings, someone drew a heart in the sand just inside the open end. Joy abounded in our creators. One morning we saw mysterious clawed tracks—racoon walking on its hands? Bunny? Tortoise? The best kind of mystery.

But as the week wore on, our visitors grew less mannerly. The sticks we placed around A’s giant pit to warn twilight walkers to go around would be thrown inside the hole, along with a foot or so of sand. The shells and seats inside the shelter would be topsy-turvy. Yet each day the kids set about recreating their projects. By the end, A asked for a little help, which we gladly gave, but mostly they loved doing what they were doing.

Then, on the last day, we found the shelter torn down. Only a pile of sticks remained.

I think we parents felt the worst. Who would do that? Why? Sure, kids are impulsive, but I remember telling my little ones to wait, to see how much work went into making that, to look at all the details. After a few seconds, I could relax, knowing they wouldn’t destroy anything. And yes, I mean ages five and up—but no toddler pulled down that lean-to! Our circus performer had been hanging from the ridge pole just the other day. It was sturdy!

She carried it--the one on the sand!

I thought of all the triumph S exuded when she brought the perfect section of palm log from the far end of the beach. I thought of her delight in her seashell wind chimes, strung on grass found washed up on the beach, and the pleasure the chimes had given us as they made music in the beach breezes. I thought of the beautiful shells she had collected, cleaned, and arranged on her log shelf, now gone. And I began to wonder--who would want shells that someone else had collected? Isn’t the fun in finding them?

We still headed to the beach for one last sunset, but we all felt a bit suspicious, looking at everyone to see if they might have been The Ones. And, honestly, we adults did our best, but our teenager, our creator, our child finally took us the rest of the way to truth and peace. She found her wind chimes beneath the pile of wood and rejoiced. She picked out a new project and got us involved. Together our family took the sticks from the lean-to and built the word “THANKS” on the beach. And we had a blast!

Finding the wind chimes <3

Thanks from our hearts—thank you, beach, for the wonderful week of sea air and gentle waves, the sunsets, the shells, the magical crabs, and the laughter, memories, and love those gifts inspired. Thank you, children of ours, for leading us to a new level of joy that sunset night. Thank you, children, for being the best gift life has given us. Thank you for reminding us that joy comes not from possessing a creation, but in the act of creating.

A celebratory sea-grape banner over the excavation!