November 27, 2014
Thursday
Thanksgiving Day
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
— E.E. Cummings, 1894-1962
American poet
I have probably used this particular excerpt from E. E. Cummings before, at Thanksgiving and at other times when I become acutely aware of the goodness that is my life. I could pray without ceasing just by thinking of every single thing and person and memory that brings light to my journey through this vale of tears.
It is nearly 11:00 am EST as I write this. In about an hour Ron and I will be leaving for Oxford, Pennsylvania, ninety minutes away, to spend Thanksgiving with Lynn and Matt and Matt’s extended family. Beginning on Monday night, the region where I live had dire warnings of heavy snow and bad weather conditions for travel. On Tuesday I did our “blizzard shopping,” a small turkey breast and all the trimmings that we could have today if we couldn’t get out. Ordinarily, I would have waited until Friday to get it and cooked it on Saturday so we can have “leftover” turkey sandwiches during Advent preparations. I got my hostess gift of my favorite Nissley wines, Holiday White and Holiday Red, and filled the gas tank.
The snow did come yesterday, but the temperature did not drop, and the precipitation ended early. The Thanksgiving Eve service at my church was cancelled, a great disappointment to me. But this morning the snow lies round about only as a dusting on our still-green lawns, the turkey breast lies waiting in the refrigerator for tomorrow or Saturday, and we’ll soon be heading not over the river but over hill and dale and through the woods to Matt’s mom’s house.
In 2006 I wrote this:
I had a hard month emotionally leading up to this day. A lot of loss, a lot of remembering, a lot of examining what my friends and my family mean to me. Tonight I give thanks for the incredible abundance of joy and love that is mine, and I am ready to step into a holiday season with all the trimmings.
Happy seasons are all alike. Each unhappy season is unhappy in its own way. I’ve had another autumn of sighing and scatteredness. But here we are, on most this amazing day, reading for another season of hope and of joy.
May all be well with you. Thank you for reading, so much, so often.