A Thanksgiving to God

Every year, as the leaves begin to fall at an astronomical pace, my thoughts again turn towards the holidays. I call them the “holidays” because that is what our secular society has dubbed the times of the year when Americans celebrate general thankfulness and the birth of Jesus Christ, but in spite of definition and all sarcasm aside, my thoughts stream towards this most beautiful time like a rain-swelled creek overflowing its banks with water gushing in all directions. I am thankful, no wait, I am truly thankful for the American holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas because they allow me acquiescent pause regardless of the moment’s tenor. To be thankful, I have surmised, is to look outside of self and find peaceful accord with the environment that envelops both my physical and metaphysical being apart from its oppressive footprint on my life. I can then approach my reality in utter gratitude and thanksgiving as the American “holidays” suggest with their whimsical connotations and spiritual contexts. This mindset, however easily scripted, is a work in progress, with each step out-pacing the last until thanksgiving replaces all selfishness and “good will toward men” isn’t just an image conjured from a certain Dickens Christmas story.

As I grow older, however, and as my experiences pile up like a heavy winter’s snow, wind blown and drifted, I have realized a certain inescapable truth; my blessings are God granted, and my pathways, God guided. I make this notation, not for the obvious reason of illustrating a point but for the purpose of acknowledgement, a proverbial announcement of gratitude during a time of good tidings and inner reflection. I see in the eyes of my children the likeness of infinite peace and feel a sense of trust, as if to say, I have been trusted with these beautiful souls, and for that, I am immensely thankful and blessed. I can no longer picture my self alone, unattached, or able to meander the world like a placid river roaming the landscape in search of the sea because I feel the significance of my little ones with their hearts on my sleeve and their heads on my chest. I am physically blessed to be a father, a blessing from God which cannot go unspoken this Thanksgiving.

When I was young, in my mind, I pictured the woman I would marry when I grew old. In much the same way as a dream leaves a canvas etched but unseen, I imagined her to be what she became when I married her years later. Her exquisite physical shell is simply the wrapping of her beautiful soul, soft and fragile, yet strong and prominent in her earthly stride. Her blessing was planned for me, and I for her by our Creator who knew us in our mother’s wombs and guided us safely through a world of obstacles and obstructions. He matched us from birth and collided our souls in physical and spiritual harmony with a skill not known in earthly ranks. He chose for me a partner to lean towards and celebrate inside of all the days I have on earth. I am a husband, a gift from God, and a blessing that cannot go unspoken this Thanksgiving.

As a boy, I formed lifelong friendships that have delivered many lessons along the way. Through the eyes of my brothers, I have learned compassion for others, strength in unity, unwavering love, a warrior spirit, equality, youthful exuberance, and unfortunately heartbreaking loss. I am thankful to have one friend but truly blessed to have many, an unmistakable gift from God. I am a friend and in this acknowledgment I pledge my friendship for all the days of my life in the shared missions our band of brothers choose to engage.

I am utterly thankful this Thanksgiving for the landscapes that lay out before my eyes and the seasons that color them in every hue of the rainbow. It is in the sights and smells of nature that I find my most reflective appreciation of God and His wondrous creation. The poets write of flowering lace and shadows of air, of clear midnights and woodlands brown, of myriad harmonic creatures and their earthly treks upon whirls of foliage not yet laid. Their verses, however expertly crafted, pale in comparison with an actual view from a mountain’s peek or a glimpse inside an autumn’s fall; a phenomenon even the poets prose fails to completely capture. This Thanksgiving, I recognize my thankfulness of our world and its features, a thanksgiving that cannot go unacknowledged and a blessing from God.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once penned,

For flowers that bloom about our feet;For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet;For song of bird, and hum of bee;For all things fair we hear or see,Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

I will let Mr. Emerson have the final word but only this once. Just a thought!