THANKSGIVING. No matter what situation life presents, may there be at least one moment of ‘giving thanks.’ Each day.
THANKSGIVING. No matter how one is experiencing politicians, colleagues, family, friends, may there be at least one person who puts a smile on our face and provides a reason to give thanks. Each day.
THANKSGIVING. No matter how we are feeling, where we are living, what we are eating, may we go to sleep with at least one reason for which we are grateful we are alive. Each night.
Thanksgiving is a holiday this weekend in Canada. Last month, Thanksgiving (Chuseok Day) was celebrated in South Korea. Next month, Thanksgiving will be a holiday in the United States, Liberia, Grenada, as well as China, Norfolk Island, Japan and Vietnam.
Interesting information but … while it’s good that one weekend/day a year the focus is on ‘giving thanks,’ be that as a celebration of the Autumn harvest or a celebration of gratitude, why is a separate day/weekend and all its commercialism needed to help us be aware of the many blessings around us?
Why can we not express an attitude of gratitude for someone, or something, somehow, and some way – each day?
We can. If we want to change our attitude from criticism, self-recrimination, resentment, anger, etc. to gratitude, we can.
Let’s let Harvest Thanksgiving (being celebrated in Canada this weekend), be the catalyst for us to make place for gratitude in our hearts, each day giving thanks … thanksgiving. May this – and each day – be a safe and happy thanksgiving day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Photo was taken at Manitoulin Island, Ontario, Canada, while visiting my brother, Gerry Mack, and his family. The memories are bittersweet because it’s the last time I saw Gerry before he unexpectedly died and because the memory of that visit is so precious – filled with laughter, adventure, wonderful long talks, his wisdom and love.
He was the very best brother one could ever wish to have and I am so grateful for the privilege of being his ‘big sister’ for the years we had together. Rest in peace, Gerry. Rest in peace.
A phone call and a question “Would you like to go for a car ride this afternoon?” began a day that unfolded in ways I hadn’t expected.
I’d been going on afternoon car rides with a wonderful man for several years. We enjoyed one another’s company, laughed a lot, had great conversations and loved exploring parts of this island neither of us had seen before. That day was no different. Or was it?
He picked me up and off we went with Shandy, his delightful King Charles spaniel – meandering along country roads, beside the ocean, exploring, talking, laughing. The sun was shining and the drive was leisurely and delightful. About an hour later, he pulled into a parking space beside the ocean (a place we’d often frequented on our afternoon drives), and we went for a walk along the ocean shore. At the end of our walk, we sat on a bench overlooking the water’s edge and before I knew it, he had asked me to marry him. Again. And added “It’s okay if you’re not ready. I’ll be here when you are. I’m hoping you’re ready now.”
He’d asked the question several times before, but each time I declined. This time was different. He was a man who was genuine, honest, sincere, could be trusted, was patient (he’d waited years for me to say ‘yes’) and loved me deeply. I knew that I loved this man in so many ways and when he said that he had phoned my son for his blessing, he endeared himself to me even more. My son had a deep respect for this man, was so happy for us both, and wholeheartedly gave his blessing. I was so happy and easily said “yes.” When would we get married? There was so much to do – perhaps in a year’s time?
“Soon, I hope. I’m not getting any younger” he said. “Sooner than later.” Within six (!) weeks, we had put our respective homes on the market … sold both homes … packed up the two homes (each downsizing as much as we could in such a short time) and found our ‘together’ home in a new community … created handmade wedding invitations … made the painful and difficult decision to love Shandy enough to let her go and be at peace from the pain that wracked her body and canine dementia confusion that imprisoned her mind … chosen wedding rings … planned the wedding … got married … moved into our new ‘together home’ … began to unpack the boxes … dealt with the kitchen cabinets that were literally coming off the walls and other unexpected renovation projects that needed immediate attention and more. It was a stressful time, but amazingly, it all seemed to bring us even closer together.
Little did I know how much my life would change when I answered a phone call and went on a car ride with Hans Van Der Werff.
Remembering how it all began … with a simple phone call and invitation to go for a car ride … thank you Alexander Graham Bell for inventing the phone so Hans could phone and invite me for a drive that day. And, … thank you, Karl Benz, for inventing the gasoline-powered car in 1871, so we could go for that lovely drive on that wonderful day in 2019.
Each time I remember that day, there’s a smile on my face and deep gratitude in my heart. Too many friends have recently been diagnosed with a form of dementia and are unable to remember very much. But that special, joy-filled day is firm in my mind.
That gentle giant of a man conquered cancer once – twice – but not the third one. Sad memory, but even so, I am ‘remembering’ much more with Hans — so many happy memories and am grateful for that gift of remembering.
Whether we refer to ourselves as Monarchists or not, now is not the time to debate. Queen Elizabeth has died today. She reigned for seventy (70) years.
She was human – very human and she made mistakes. And on this day, as her family is mourning, her country is grieving, and many around the world are questioning the appropriateness of a Monarch in general, the horrific effects of colonialism and the accession to the throne of the successor in particular, the time will come for debate about all of that and more, but with respect, not today.
Today, I am remembering a woman who faithfully served her country and the Commonwealth to the best of her ability. I give thanks for her lifelong service and ask God’s blessing on her.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote “Earth’s crammed with heaven each common bush aflame with God Yet only he (sic) who sees, take off his (sic) shoes.”
If Divine Presence is everywhere (“every common bush”) can it be surmised that there is *nowhere* that Divine Presence, God, the Creator isn’t?
I love reading the letters “n o w h e r e“
They can say “no where.” AKA “it cannot be found.” They can say “now here.” AKA “it is evident.”
Many want to believe in miracles, yet few believe they exist. To them, miracles are … “no where.”
Maybe they are looking for the magnificent, the stupendous, the WOW.
And in doing so, they miss the miracle-in-the-ordinary … the “now here.”
When we take our ‘shoes off’ and become like a child about to wade into a cool brook, we see the minnows in the water, the eagle flying overhead, the smile on the faces of those around us.
We hear the laughter of others and breathe fresh air into our lungs.
We experience the Divine-in-the-ordinary, and also in the commonplace, in the mundane, in “every common bush.”
Miracles.
I want a miracle for my friends, diagnosed with final stages of cancer. I want a miracle for my neighbouring country in the death-throes of political upheaval.
I want a miracle for the world that continues to struggle with COVID and now re-emergence of polio and new emergence of Monky Pox.
I want a miracle for the people of Ukraine and American women who cannot get an abortion even if they were raped or if their own life is in jeopardy.
I want more than glimmers of hope. I want miracles! I want to experience “each common bush aflame with God.”
I guess it’s up to me, and each of us, to find the glimmers of hope in ‘possibility’ and not inevitability.
I guess it’s up to each of us to decide whether it’s “shoes on – or shoes off.”
“Create,” said my friend, with enthusiasm. I looked at the blank piece of paper and was numb.
“Create? Create what?”
“Let it flow. Put paint on brush, brush on paper. See what happens.”
“She’s got to be kidding” I murmured to myself. “I need her to show me what to do. I’ve never painted before”.
The others were mixing paint colours, adding water, having fun. One was even humming. And I? What was I doing? I was looking at the others, trying to figure out what to do … looking at the instructor … trying to have her tell me in simple, easy, step-by-step instructions, how to create. But there I sat. Immobile.
~ Schoenberg created twelve-tone music. ~ Bette Nesmith Graham invented liquid paper. ~ Picasso created cubism. ~ Maria Telkes & Eleanor Raymond developed the first solar-heated home. ~ Auden made verses. ~ Gutenberg invented moveable type. ~ Cartwright invented the game of baseball. ~ Earle Dickson invented bandaids. ~ Anna Connelly created the outdoor fire escape. ~ Walter Hunt created the safety pin. ~ Grace Murray Hopper invented COBOL, the first user-friendly business computer software program. ~ Jack St Clair Kilby created the microchip. ~ Arthur Wynne created the crossword puzzle. ~ Mary Anderson invented the windshield wiper. And then there was Einstein, the Wright brothers, Hildegard of Bingen, Louie Pasteur, Eli Whitney, Georgia O’Keeffe, and …
They all created. Were they ever ‘immobile’?
I was. Why?
Thoreau wrote “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.”
The Deuteronomist wrote “Choose life!”
So, what did I have to lose? I put some paint on a brush. The brush touched the paper. Creation?
Creation. Finally.
Another life lesson: … risk … go confidently in the direction of your dreams … choose life … create.
Because Temple Grandin did, an entire industry was changed because she decided to “Create. Just begin.”
This greeting card is the result of the above decision to “Create. Just begin.”
P.S. If you’ve not seen the movie about Temple Grandin, I hope you will – soon. What a remarkable woman – role model – pioneer – leader – visionary – human being.
In the midst of … grieving the loss of yet another friend … learning that another friend’s husband’s dementia has taken an unexpected downward turn … hearing the anguish of Americans devastated by the inability of the NRA to see the connection between assault rifles and the horrifying massacre of 19 children and 2 teachers and the shooting of 5 children and the grandmother of the perpetrator who continue to struggle in hospital to survive their physical wounds, all of them facing a lifetime of dealing with the physical, emotional and spiritual wounds of the slaughter … mindful that the possibility of the reversal of Roe v Wade is on the horizon and will have devastating consequences for decades … aware that people around the world are still homeless, still poor, still in pain, still dealing with mental/physical illness and COVID … and unable to forget the images of the horror that continue in Ukraine, this photo speaks to me of life and death, darkness and light, shadow and hope.
Yes, hope.
Where is the hope? It’s in the clear sky … the bright yellow colour in the flowers in the foreground … and the healthy green leaves beside them.
Where is the hope? It’s in the words on a sign I read on a concentration camp wall that read “I believe in the sun, even when it’s not shining. I believe in the stars even when I see them not. I believe in God, even when God is silent.”
The presence of hope is always with us. Sometimes – tangible. Sometimes – intangible. Sometimes – visible. Sometimes – invisible. Sometimes – audible. Sometimes – silent. But it is always present.
May we have eyes to see it, ears to hear it, hearts to feel it, and minds to believe it.
An aside, when I took this photo a few summers ago, I didn’t know why I did. Nor did I know why it seemed so important to have the Alberta rose flowers in the photo.
And then tonight, I noticed that while the dark clouds over the mountains in the background may look ominous, the pink flowers in the foreground are a gentle reminder that things aren’t always as they seem. And now I know why I took this photo.
An aside, when I took this photo a few summers ago, I didn’t know why I did. Nor did I know why it seemed so important to have the Alberta rose flowers in the photo. And then tonight, I noticed that while the dark clouds over the mountains in the background may look ominous, the pink flowers in the foreground are a gentle reminder that things aren’t always as they seem. And now I know why I took this photo.
