Thanksgiving Prayer

My favorite day of the year. Without qualification, Thanksgiving was always the day that I looked forward to. It represented the pinnacle of familial unity and intimacy. The Norman Rockwell image of Family around the dinner table was my ideal. (And, as an avowed Idealist, this was, for me, no small matter.) [smile]

Hence, when I purchased dining room furnishings, I selected the most accommodating dining table offered by the good folk at Ethan Allen. Substantial English oak and an ability to be expanded to a size that would welcome the entire family was my goal.

And on that annual day of feasting and celebrating, I happily assumed the role of turkey baker/carver, and Host. Then, as we all sat around that grand table laden with magnificent treats and culinary treasures, we would hold hands … bow our heads … and one by one, offer each of our individual statements of prayerful gratitude for our blessings.

Thus it was on that particular Thanksgiving when we were additionally blessed with Matthew … sitting there, between myself and his mother … in his high-chair, and filled with wonder at the presence of an altogether unusual energy and spirit in his home.

His mother followed my reading of a scripture appropriate to the occasion with her start to our Thanksgiving Prayer. Then her Dad, Mother, Brother-in-Law, Sister, and back to me for my benedictory closing. But then, after my “Amen,” there filled the reverent silence, another voice … “M-i-c” … I lifted my head and looked. We all looked. Save Matthew, whose head was still bowed … hands folded in prayer … “k-e-y”. I looked at the others; shrugged; nodded; and we all joined him in his “M-o-u-s-e.” Then Matt lifted his head in complete solemnity and quietude … having offered his contribution of the most reverential and worshipful expression that his darling little soul knew.

And, My Dear Friend and Reader, I fully believe to this day that all of Heaven was stilled and blessed by that dear young Soul’s fervent prayer that day. For I remembered then … and still do … the verse of scripture that teaches us that “Unless you come in the innocent spirit of a little child, you will never know the kingdom of Heaven.”

I lovingly bid you … each and every beautiful One of you … a day of sweet, harmonious joy in the bosom of those with whom you share Love.

Happy Thanksgiving Day Dear One. I do, indeed, love you.



A Post-Script Note: In response to inquiries by some who are not familiar with the Mickey Mouse Club 'Alma Mater' (that Matthew was singing on that far-removed Thanksgiving Day) ... Here 'tis ...



(I will never tire of the many memories stirred by that song ... And I think that you can readily sense the reverent spirit that Matt felt appropriate to our prayerful moment. I hope that you enjoyed it!)

An Autumnal Perspective (with a Chuckle)

by Michael Fry and T Lewis

(Note: Please click on the Image to enlarge)

For This is Wisdom

For this is Wisdom; to love, to live,

To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give,

To ask no question, to make no prayer,

To kiss the lips and caress the hair,

Speed passion’s ebb as you greet its flow,

To have ... to hold ... and, in time, ... let go!

LAURENCE HOPE

aka: Adela Florence Cory Nicolson


09 April 1865 - 04 October 1904












IMAGES: SCENES through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com
LAURENCE HOPE Wikipedia

"The Human Touch" revisited

In this day of applied Programs, Plans, Initiatives, and Systems, there is a void that is all too often left wanting. That want is addressed by this work of Spencer Michael Free. He (from his perspective as a practicing physician) spoke to an elementary requirement of the Human Spirit.

In response to a sweet reminder of this post (thank you Maria), I ask that we consider the power and potential that awaits each of us… if we will but offer our own personal provision of “The Human Touch.”

The Human Touch

'Tis the human touch in this world that counts,
The touch of your hand and mine,
Which means far more to the fainting heart
Than shelter and bread and wine;
For shelter is gone when the night is o’er,
And bread lasts only for a day,
But the touch of the hand and the sound of the voice
Sing on in the soul alway.


Spencer Michael Free (1856-1938)
Free graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of the Johns Hopkins University in 1880, and practiced medicine and surgery for some fifty years thereafter. In addition to some one hundred medical papers, he wrote many poems.


IMAGE: Maria Brandstetter, BBC