Autumn has always been my favorite time of the year. I love the look and feel and smell of this season. And I also like that it reminds us to be thankful for what we have, to pause and take stock, and to rest and recover for further effort. Those are all lessons that we need to learn--and many of us (your 'umble blogger definitely included) seem to need to learn them over and over and over again.
I love watching the fields turn golden brown--and then go bare as the harvests come in. I love the scent of burning leaves on the wind, the taste of a fresh apple, the nip in the air of a morning. One of the nicer things about my now longer commute to the office is that I get to get out into the country more--and really see the seasons change. The fields that now lie fallow will soon be covered with snow. Then, when the snows disappear, they'll be ploughed and the rich, black earth will be turned over and seeds will be planted. The green shoots will appear, the bare trees will bud and break forth with leaves, everything will be green and lush under the warm summer sun, and then we'll start to see the days grow shorter and the fields turn gold again. As the Byrds sang, riffing on Ecclesiastes, "To everything there is a season."
And that's what I choose to celebrate this Thanksgiving. Not the apocryphal Pilgrims who, after making all nice with the First Nations, then got all genocidal on them. That's maybe a nice story for the younger set, but it doesn't really sit well with anyone who's familiar with the more detailed picture of American history.
But what I can and do celebrate is the bounty of the harvest, the resting of the land as the season turns to winter. Soon it will be Advent and we'll be preparing for the coming of the Prince of Peace--and may He find a far more welcoming world this year than has been the case at any time in the last eight. I will be giving gifts to friends and family in memory of the Gift that we were given (and the Giver thereof). Those gifts may (or may not) be material in nature. There will likely be fewer of them under the tree this year than last, and they may be less expensive than usual. But that will not dampen my enthusiasm in the slightest. What matters is that we give, and give of and from ourselves--not the price tag or the brand name on the gift.
In the same vein, what we will do tomorrow is not about eating as much as possible until we collapse in front of the television in a tryptophan coma coupled with a sugar buzz. It's about gathering with friends and family and sharing a meal. Does my family really need the three pies I baked today for the celebration tomorrow? Definitely not. But I made them anyway, because I love to bake and I don't get the chance to do it much. Apple for my mom, cherry for my sister, and pumpkin for me. It's good to watch as simple ingredients--flour, salt, water, butter--are transformed and filled with good things. The smells are just wonderful as everything bakes, and then cools on the counter afterward. It's work, to be sure, but it's a labor of love. There's just something about working with your own two hands to provide something special for people you care about.
And it pleased me that our president-elect and his family took some time out of their day to help out at a food pantry on the South Side today--and doubly so because of the reason he gave for wanting to bring his daughters along with him:
I want them to learn the importance of how fortunate they are and to make sure they're giving back.
Indeed. A lesson we would all do well to remember tomorrow--and every other day of the year, too.
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