One thing I love about hosting is creating a mood in the home. I always have slow jazz playing on the TV with some cozy coffee-shop visuals, and the fireplace going. We play games — always cards, charades, or whatever new game is trending that year. This time I pulled out Bingo, which felt like a throwback but worked perfectly with the mix of ages in our group. We even gave away small prizes: jars of honey, chocolate, little treats. Simple but fun.
And then there’s the food. The usual turkey and mashed potatoes made their appearance, but every year I like to add something new or resurrect an old favorite. This year’s star was a kale salad — yes, I know, “kale salad” doesn’t exactly scream Thanksgiving magic — but this one was incredible. It had roasted delicata squash, pomegranate seeds, goat cheese, and a honey-mustard dressing. It disappeared quickly and received a ton of compliments. I’m linking to it HERE because it was that good.
The salad was bright, fresh, and balanced out the starchiness of the rest of the meal. I also added lemon-butter green beans to round things out.
And then… the showstopper: a Cranberry Curd Tart I found online. At first, I didn’t believe it would come out as vibrantly red as the photos, but I was determined to try it. I love a recipe that’s a little fussy and dramatic — something that feels like a project. This one was exactly that. It turned out gorgeous. I added sugared cranberries and rosemary on top for a festive touch, and it was mesmerizing. Definitely one to bring to a Christmas gathering. I even made extra sugared cranberries and rosemary for holiday drinks. You can find the recipe HERE.
So yes — dinner was delicious, the playlist was perfect, the home was warm, and Bingo was a hit.
But then… there’s family. And that’s where things get trickier.
I have two sisters, one older and one younger. We’ve been fighting our entire lives — about chores, clothes, everything. Fast forward into adulthood and… it hasn’t changed much. Holidays have become something I dread more than I look forward to. My kids feel it too — we’re all tired of the drama. And the irony is that none of us can clearly articulate what the problem actually is.
This year, I tried something different. I sent both of my sisters a message with a few basic requests—nothing unreasonable, just simple boundaries around behaviors I can no longer absorb. One sister is unpredictable; you never quite know which version will walk through the door: the warm, fun one or the defensive, aggressive one whose emotional blowback usually lands on me. The other tends to manipulate and lie, often using Scripture as a shield to justify behavior that genuinely hurts people. She frames others as “unforgiving” whenever they react to things she has actually done. So I asked for something straightforward: predictability and respect. The sister who often stirs up conflict agreed to come. The other declined, saying my requests were “too much.”
The one that agreed to come arrived that evening fully loaded with opinions, criticisms, and finger-pointing. By mid-evening, Thanksgiving had devolved into yet another argument. The two sisters are always fighting and making up. I stepped out of that cycle years ago and chose to be friendly and distant — present, but in a controlled way. One sister comes to everything and usually causes a stir; the other comes to nothing. I’ve struggled to find a healthy balance with both.
For a long time, I tried to control the environment because I so desperately wanted a cohesive family. I wanted peace. I wanted normal. But here’s the truth I’ve finally made peace with: I can’t control anyone’s behavior. I can’t engineer emotional maturity for other adults. I can’t glue something together on my own when everyone else is holding their own piece loosely.
Each person has to carry their own emotional weight.
So I’m stepping back — not in anger, but in acceptance. I’ll invite them, love them, and be kind. But I won’t absorb the chaos. I won’t bend myself into knots trying to create a family picture that only I’m willing to work for. I can maintain a relationship, but only at a level that is healthy, safe, and sustainable.
And this Thanksgiving, oddly enough, that realization felt freeing.