Gratitude at a Table Where Someone is Missing
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The holidays have a way of reminding us of what we love—and who we miss.
A familiar recipe. A song. A story someone always told. A chair that used to belong to someone whose absence still changes the room.
We gather to give thanks, but some of us arrive carrying grief. Others are facing illness, strained relationships, or a future that feels uncertain. The invitation to celebrate can leave us wondering: How do I do this honestly?
How do I worship God in thanksgiving when my heart is hurting?
My dad has been gone for twenty-one years. That is a long time. Long enough to be over it, right?
No. I still miss him.
I can be grateful for the years we shared and wish we had been given more. Both are true.
Gratitude and grief can occupy the same heart.
We see that in Job. When devastating loss overtook him, he tore his robe, shaved his head, fell to the ground, and worshiped (Job 1:20). His mourning was visible. His worship happened within it.
We need to handle that scene tenderly. Job’s response gives us something to consider prayerfully; it does not give us a timetable to impose on someone else’s heartbreak. The rest of his story includes anguish, questions, and lament.
His worship did not mean his struggle was over.
Neither does ours.
Jesus himself said, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death” (Matthew 26:38, ESV). In Gethsemane, he brought his anguish to his Father and asked his friends to remain with him.
There is room in faithful worship for sorrow. There is room to ask for relief. There is room to need someone beside us.
So perhaps we can begin the holidays with an honest prayer: “Lord, I want to thank you. I also need you to know how much this hurts.”
Something beautiful happens in Psalm 23.
In the opening verses, David speaks about his Shepherd: “He leads me.” “He restores my soul.”
Then he enters the valley of the shadow of death, and his language changes.
He speaks directly to God:
“For you are with me.”
The Shepherd is his companion in the valley.
As Advent approaches, we prepare to celebrate Immanuel—God with us. The Saviour whose birth we celebrate knows human sorrow from within. He came among us, suffered for us, and gave himself for our salvation.
We can bring him the truth about how we are doing.
“‘The LORD is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him’”
Those words rise from a book filled with grief. The losses remain real. Yet there is still someone to turn toward: the Lord himself.
What might that look like this Thanksgiving or Christmas?
Perhaps we speak the name of the person we miss. We tell a story, prepare their favorite dish, or let ourselves cry when a memory catches us unexpectedly. We can thank God for the gift of loving them while acknowledging the ache of their absence.
Perhaps we change a tradition because this year it feels too difficult. We accept help with the meal. We choose a quieter gathering. We tell someone we trust that we would appreciate their company.
And perhaps we take the time to recognize one small expression of God’s care: a friend who calls, someone who listens, strength for an ordinary task. We give thanks for that particular kindness, even while much remains painful.
Those of us sitting beside someone who grieves can make room, too. We can listen without rushing to explain. We can welcome their memories and their tears. We can let them enjoy a happy moment without assuming their grief has ended.
There may be laughter around the table this year. There may also be an unexpected moment when someone needs to step away.
We can receive one another with tenderness in both.
Jesus tells us that our Father knows what we need (Matthew 6:32). That includes the needs we find difficult to put into words.
Some days, worship will be a song. Some days, a whispered prayer.
This holiday season, it may sound like this: “Father, thank you for the love I have known. You know how deeply I miss what has changed. Help me receive today’s gifts, and help me trust you with today’s sorrow. I know You are with me. You are still my portion. Help me walk with You today.”
The Midweek Table is a weekly blog made available by The Local to help us continue to press into Jesus and His mission for our lives. It may be a recap of the discussion from the previous week’s Local table gathering. It may be thoughts to ponder and things to help us grow in our walk with Jesus.
Each week, The Local meets in various homes around a table to eat, worship, read and discuss the Bible, and pray for each other and our community. Living on mission is our response to the grace and love Jesus has shown us. We share the Gospel and show love to those we encounter where we live, learn, work, and play.
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