Within a thirty minutes’ drive, I can reach the doorstep of over a dozen family members. This number quadruples if I count those who married into our tribe. As a result, my social calendar is full of events - birthday parties, baby showers, sporting events, graduations. We even schedule vacations around our “busy months” - those with the most birthdays, anniversaries and holidays.
Our family events are productions to coordinate, feed and entertain dozens of people.
That’s why I applauded my sister - a newlywed with a new home - for hosting Thanksgiving this year. Ever the hostess, her clever invitations requested that each person bring a dish and set the schedule including dinner, dessert and a movie.
Inspired by a recent meal, I decided to contribute holiday beverages and a dessert. It was a welcome change of pace. I no longer wanted to make my crowd-pleasing meatballs after going meatless and it was a chance to try a vegan apple pie recipe to accommodate my aunt’s dairy allergy.
I purchased ingredients a couple days in advance - including a new one for me, vegan butter - with confidence that prepping the night before and baking in the morning would leave plenty of time for the 2 p.m. dinner.
In hindsight, I was too confident in an untested recipe with unfamiliar ingredients and should have heeded my partner’s advice to bake a test pie.
If the recipe and ingredients weren’t enough to make me think twice, I was also making several adjustments with the help of chatgpt to create a healthier pie with less sugar and a portion of white flour substituted for wheat flour.
Both chatgpt and I were excited about the changes and I whole-heartedly believed when chatgpt said, “Your pies are going to be amazing!”
Confidence Only Takes You So Far
Although I woke up later than expected, I was rested and in good spirits on Thanksgiving morning. Determined to avoid the usual rush-induced anxiety, I lit some sage, turned on soothing music, and mindfully moved into the baking process.
My zen approach was tested almost immediately.
The vegan butter was coconut oil-based and didn’t behave like traditional butter. The dough was tacky and moist, refusing to roll out smoothly. The rounds I cut to form the mini crusts weren’t the size or thickness I needed.
For a moment, I thought to pivot to something store-bought, but just as quickly, I resolved to see the process through.
Challenged but resilient, I adjusted my methods until I found a way forward. The crusts weren’t pretty, but they worked. I skipped the recipe’s suggested lattice top, opting instead for a simpler, tic-tac-toe design. They were, without a doubt, the ugliest pies I’d ever made.
Still, I felt accomplished for finishing and believed the appearance would be forgiven if the taste was delicious.
The pies went into the oven at 1 p.m., and I went to ready myself while they baked. When I checked 30 minutes later, the filling was bubbling, but the crusts were pale. I cranked up the heat and gave them another 10 minutes. No luck. The crusts stubbornly refused to brown.
At 2:07, I packed my not-so-golden pies and drinks—bottled water, apple cider, and eggnog—into the car, hoping to get to dinner before anyone noticed I was tardy.
Ten minutes into the drive, my sister-in-law called to check what drinks I was bringing. When I told her, she asked if I could pick up sodas. Horrified at being late and unprepared, I admitted that I was twenty minutes away. They decided to make the store run instead.
When I finally arrived, I was surprised to see not only my immediate family but my brother-in-law’s extended family. My dread at unveiling my ugly pies intensified.
So, I begged my sister-in-law to stash them in a corner, back where no one would see them.
This story could have ended with 18 ugly, little pies, hidden in the corner, destined to return home with me. But as we wrapped up our meal, my mom asked about my pies. She’d seen my aunt grab one shortly after I arrived. I turned to my aunt, bracing myself. “How was it?”
“Delicious,” she said with a smile.
“I can’t wait to try one,” my sister chimed in as she cleared her plate. My mom had already started walking toward the pie corner.
My aunt spoke up again, “If there are leftovers, I want to take a few home.”
Ugly is in the Eye of the Beholder
Relieved, I looked around and noticed people enjoying the cider and eggnog, and I remembered something I'd known all along: my contributions to my family are always appreciated and valued.
As the eating slowed, my sister and brother-in-law called for everyone’s attention. As everyone guessed about their announcement, they came towards me with a gift bag. Inside was a card and gift asking me to be a godparent to my nephew. It was the greatest honor and one I gladly accepted.
This Thanksgiving, I was reminded of the power of family and its ability to lift someone up when they doubt themselves. And to put them on a pedestal when they’d rather hide.
Family, no matter how it comes, through blood or bond, fills in our gaps and takes care of us when we can’t or won't take care of ourselves.
I’m eternally grateful to my big, growing family. For the lessons we’re learning together and the memories we’re always making. For the intangible goodness they add to my life and for the foundation to move confidently in this world.
Because sometimes, our day won’t go as we imagined. We’ll make a mistake and fail. People will say bad things to us or about us. We won’t always feel like our best selves.
In those times, family lifts us up, puts us back together and reminds us of who we are on our best days.
Family isn’t always perfect, but neither are we.
Persistence, not perfection, is what creates a family. Those people who are always there, uplifting you during the good, the bad, and yes, the ugly.
