Oakland church

Thanksgiving Gratitudes

“I am thankful for many things. 
 I am thankful for the earth, because without it we’d be floating in outer space. 
 I am thankful for mom and dad and my sisters and brothers because they help me. 
 I am grateful for nature because if we didn’t have nature it wouldn’t be pretty.
 I am thankful for all of these things.”
That’s what one of our preschoolers wrote several years ago in response to an assignment. 
 
 On Thanksgiving Day this year, I’m grateful for simple gifts:
  • For the ground on which I stand — whether it’s the rich green earth, or the kind in which my soul can take root.
  • For the people who’ve supported me — from those who know me well and love me anyway, to strangers who’ve offered help in time of need.
  • For the beauty of the earth, which really does make things pretty — a beauty to which I often turn for comfort, healing, inspiration, and peace.
Thankfulness is a gift,  to be shared. So on Thanksgiving Day this year — in a world where so many have been deprived of so much — I’ll give thanks by finding more ways to share the abundance I’ve been given.
 
I’d like to share with you this beautiful poem about gratitude for the work of loving the world. Hear these beautiful words from Mary Oliver, in her poem  entitled “Messenger”. 
Messenger

by Mary Oliver
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
          equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
          keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
          astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
          and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
          to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
          that we live forever.

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