Thanksgiving

 Here in America Thanksgiving Day is to commemorate that first Thanksgiving centuries ago. I recall in grade school we’d draw pictures of Pilgrims and turkeys and Indians; corn and cornucopia and autumn leaves. Plymouth Rock. Mother, Walt and I would gather at my Grandmother’s  house for traditional Turkey dinner; mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, creamed corn, green beans,  dressing and cranberries. Pumpkin pie. The smell from the kitchen sublime. We could hardly wait to sit down and eat. The table set so lovely and nice with Grandma Viv’s Vernon Ware. Memories happy and sweet. 

                                                 

 Youthful days pass away. Then, happily ever after married life, and children of my own; Gavin and Garrett. Tradition carries on. Now including Patsy’s Pumpkin bread and my husband’s favorite, Cornbread dressing. Card games, football games, Mom reading a favorite poem aloud, and family prayer giving thanks. 

We all have something to be thankful for. Another day of life, and love. 

The past. Our dear ones gone before us. So very much a part of us. Forever. Wherever we go. Whatever we do.

 The present. Our beloved family still here, and the great blessing they are.  Trusted lifelong friends, and new friends found - to share, and help shape our character.

 The future. Of whom we shall become. Hope in the promise of eternity, and God’s Divine Providence 

To give thanks for this moment. For this time. For this place. For what was; for what is to come. And always God’s tender mercies, His great grace.

***Thanksgiving 2021. An empty chair for my dear Mother and Gary. For my brother, Walt. Their presence never to be forgotten or wiped away. Only sadness at them not being here. But joy in remembering who they were, what they brought in being near . 

 Thanksgiving. 

The Wind Storm, and Pondering ….

                                                                                   

                                                                          

 A mighty wind storm tonight. It’s gusts billowing through the trees, the sound of broken branches snapping, cracking, falling to the ground. There’s a tapping, clanking noise at the outside door, like someone knocking wanting to come in; The windows rattle while backyard chimes sway, making music, like a melodic song. I’m reminded of Dylan’s famous lyrics  how many miles must a man (woman) walk down? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. I listen. And wait. And wonder. But to me the answers not clear. The wind with its whistling, harrowing, sometimes unsettling sound. Swift and powerful. Then a lull and all is quiet. Eerie. Especially in the dark of night. Yet, peaceful. I warm my back in front of the fireplace. And ponder.  The times of our life passes so quickly by. And we’re left with only photographs, and the memory of, if we’re lucky. Of loved ones we spent a lifetime with now gone. Of family and friends we’ve known since childhood, and other dear ones more recent. How do I make a difference? Especially to those I love. By choosing to be kind. Forgiving. To hold no malice, but to understand. To lend a hand, to share a smile. To give to another what so many have given me. A listening ear and time.  So what did I learn this windy night? The answer, my friend isn’t blowing in the wind, but in the quiet of our heart.

Leaves

                                                      

In summer, leaves so lush and lovely upon the trees 

provide shade and beautiful shadows 

with varied colors of green

Then seasons change, and their color

turns from green to a brilliant red, yellow and orange

And the leaves begin to fall away 

Covering  damp ground like a quilted blanket

(only to be raked into piles, and bagged)

Leaving the Redbud and Mock Cherry and Maple

with empty, barren branches; 

to stand alone through another winter