Thanksgiving was supposed to be perfect—family, laughter, and the rich aroma of turkey. But it took a shocking turn when my eight-year-old daughter, Emma, stood and asked, “Where’s the woman Dad keeps in the shed?”
Silence fell as Emma described seeing her father visit a woman in our backyard shed. My husband, Peter, turned pale and reluctantly led me outside to confront the truth. Inside the shed was Janet—a weary woman in her 50s, worn by life’s hardships.
Peter revealed she was his biological mother, whom he had recently found homeless. Fearing judgment, he hid her, hoping to help without disrupting our lives. Janet, filled with regret, was overwhelmed by our kindness when I invited her to join us.
That Thanksgiving, we didn’t just share a meal—we shared forgiveness, healing, and a second chance at family.
Family is family.