Thanksgiving was meant to be a time of family, laughter, and the comforting scent of turkey filling the air. But everything changed when my eight-year-old daughter, Emma, stood up and asked, “Where’s the woman Dad keeps in the shed?”
A stunned silence followed as Emma explained that she had seen her father visit a woman in our backyard shed. My husband, Peter, went pale and quietly led me outside to face the truth. Inside the shed was Janet, a tired woman in her 50s, worn by life’s struggles.
Peter revealed that Janet was his biological mother, whom he had recently discovered living on the streets. Fearing judgment, he had kept her hidden, wanting to help her without causing disruption in our lives. When I invited Janet to join us at the table, she was moved by our compassion, overwhelmed by the kindness she had not expected.
That Thanksgiving, we didn’t just share a meal—we shared forgiveness, healing, and a renewed sense of family.
Family is family.
