This day of national Thanksgiving
I have personal gratitude to bring to You,
For treasures on a very personal level:
For the fire in the kitchen hearth this man I love
kept burning through the night;
For the hodge-podge of wonderful objects-
furniture, pictures and child-art wall hangings-
that make up this home's cache of memories;
For the tables set by our sweet daughters
and the ghosts we see of those
who have sat in these same chairs over the years,
talking, laughing, crying, pouting, praying.
For the bubbles I feel in my stomach just knowing that any moment
children will burst through the door.
They will run to throw their arms around my legs,
children full of excitement for this happy day;
For the memory of those so dear
who were once so much a part of this day-
now thankful to be around Your big table;
For the pain You've brought us through, that distilled into victory,
making this and every moment sweeter
like the sap of a tree, bled into a silver pail,
then boiled around the clock
to make the golden nectar we call maple syrup.
Each drop is a big price--yet so sweet.
For Your presence, Lord,
that is the fire to distill,
the breeze to cool,
the storm to bend us low,
the sunshine to draw us upward.
No wonder our forefathers took such risks
and even died for the promise of a soil
on which they could kneel in repentance
and a clear space into which they could
freely speak their gratitude
and worship to You.
