YES, IT'S TIME TO GIVE THANKS

It's that time of year when everything is happening.  Thanksgiving is upon us.  I am thankful the celebration is at my house.  I am thankful that my granddaughter is helping me prepare.  Lots of chopping for the stuffing and the old-fashioned Golden Glow Jello salad from Grandma Edna's recipe box. Setting the table for eight this year, not that many.  I remember when it was more and we used two tables.  Or occasionally just me and my husband, and we travel.  Why not? 

Not that all is good.  One of our dear friends died last week.  You know how hard it is when someone you love dies.  We all know that.  You can't be alive and not know that.  We can't believe how fragile we all are.  We don't quite want life to go on as usual, it seems callous.  "Stop all the clocks...Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come," W. H. Auden wrote.  Then just now we got a call that my husband's college roommate is gravely ill.  I read a beautiful essay in the New York Times today by a woman who lost her teenage daughter Orli.  It hit home.  Tears are defining our week. 

And yet, eight people who are alive and well will be here on Thanksgiving.  We might have prayers, maybe silent, for others who aren't here and not doing so well.  But we will also have much for which to be thankful.  Our family, like yours, is full of love.  Our family, like yours, is coping.  This is the most wonderful of American holidays.  A day devoted entirely to giving thanks.  No other holiday is like that, not Christmas, not Easter, not Hannukah, not our birthdays or 4th of July.  Isn't it something--we don't give presents, we give thanks.  Our religion doesn't matter.  We just gather and enjoy food and each other.  

This year I am again thankful that my husband and I still have one another after so many years, and have not grown tired of our conversations, our playfulness, our needs; that our younger grandson decided to spend his summer with us; that our older grandson is graduating soon; that so much of the family is local and we see them often. 

I know the world is not this easy for many, for those who are the victims of war, for those who are poor, for those in harm's way.  But if that is not you, give thanks.  Give thanks and do for others.  Join the throngs who use Christmas as a giving time.  Live in the spirit of Christ by doing for others as you would have them do unto you.  

And if that is you, or has been you, give thanks anyway.  For what else is useful, helpful, consoling and comforting but to look for your blessings and give thanks?  Not one of us is without blessings.  Not one of us need despair.  Not one of us is not a child of God with the flutter of hope in their heart.  Not one.

Happy Thanksgiving, and the peace that passes all understanding be yours this day and tomorrow.  AMEN

A PRAYER POEM FOR TODAY

Mourning the loss of hope,

Missing those moments of joy,

We shelter in place

As if from a storm.

. . . 

We know that history is long

And tyrants are made of flesh,

That power corrupts but does not last.

. . . 

Hitler is dead.

Mussolini is dead.

Stalin is dead.

Saddam Hussein is dead. 

Judas is dead.

No resurrections there.

. . . 

Only love can defeat hate.

Only light can drive out darkness.

. . .

The fight is long,

The fight is hard,

The fight continues.

God bless the fight. 

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."  Martin Luther King, Jr.

NO, WE'RE NOT FINE

"Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard" H.L. Mencken, Satirist and Cultural Critic (l8980-1956)

today I was reading a poet who talked about greed and stupidity and hate.

Such everyday things now.

I could write a poem about that, I thought.

I read, I scroll, I listen to the news.

I see who's on deck, who's failing already.

But then I thought, I'll be OK.

The stock market's rising, I'll be OK. 

I have a home, I'll be OK.

I have health insurance, I'll be OK.

The woman who cleans my home, the man who mows my grass, they aren't criminals.

It must be the others that are.

The boy who loads my groceries, he isn't lazy.

It must be the others who are. 

The mothers and their children who shop with me in Food Lion, they're not vermin.

It must be the others who are.

I haven't met anyone who doesn't deserve a hand up, but I must be wrong. 

Anyway, I was born here, I'll be fine.

If I don't care about our country, the world, or the future, 

I'll be just fine.

On second thought, I'm not in the mood to write a poem.  

                               

                                                       Nina Naomi

A DAY FOR HYGGE, DEFINITELY

 "Complete absence of anything annoying or emotionally overwhelming."  This is part of the Danish concept of hygge, the term that captures feelings of coziness, warmth, charm and simplicity.  All things good.  I admit to needing, even longing, for that.  We don't want emotional overwhelm right now.  Our thresholds are low.  Mine is. 

The word comes originally from the Old Norse word hugga, which means to comfort or console, i.e. our word hug.  But in Denmark it's an entire cultural phenomenon and has become so here as well.  Especially in fall and winter, we strive for hygge (pronounced hooga) as we bring out our quilts, sweaters and cozy socks.  In our country, the concept so named became noticeably popular by 2017 when in response the Oxford English Dictionary added it to our vocabulary.  The same year The Little Book of Hygge became a hit.  Community, family, simple quiet times and warm feelings--who wouldn't be enchanted?

What intrigues me is the idea that we can create a spot, a mood, a corner or an evening devoid of the annoying or overwhelming.  That is definitely worth a try.  And since the Danes consistently win the competition for the world's happiest people--despite their long, cold, dark winters--who better to emulate.  

In a prior post I mentioned that we have been sitting by our fire pit in the evening, the one (of two) that got so much use during the pandemic.  While there's no way to remember fondly the fear Covid without a vaccine engendered, we might have fond memories of some of the ways we coped.  For example, we brought out warm throws and sat by the fire pit with friends, chili bubbling in the crockpot under the market lights and candles spread about, their flames flickering into the dark.  Our Maltipoo Wiggles took turns lap-warming.  I knitted hats for Christmas gifts.  It was, despite all, a hygge season.  

And that's where we are now.  Post-election, nursing our wounds, guarding our hearts and Thanksgiving around the corner.  Leaves falling or fallen, wanting very much not to be overwhelmed or anxious.  I love the idea of taking control of our own well-being by snuggling under lap robes by a fire with a warm drink and a book or movie.  I love the idea of herding the kids onto the couch, even though my own kids are grown.  I love, don't you, these early nights with comfort food and soft pajamas?  

Let's think of all the things that make us feel warm, loved, happy and at peace.  Then let's pursue them.  If there's something unpleasant holding forth in your mind, shut it out.  Don't give it space. Not today. Take a mental and emotional break from annoyances or worse and love yourself and each other.  Let fragrances loose everywhere:  vanilla tea, cinnamon cider, apple pie, pumpkin spice lattes, cedar branches mixed with holly.  Add in the family quilt that someone carefully made with generations in mind, knowing it would outlive her.  Find a cuddler--a dog, a child.  Even chickens purr like cats, I've been told.  Pick up your favorite craft and have on music in the background. 

Draw your life in or let it expand, whatever works best for you.  This is not the time for emotional overwhelm.  Let the hygge begin.       Nina Naomi 

 

  

THE DAYS ARE ABLAZE

How can it be November?  But that's what I say each month.  How can it be October, or September, or August?  Don't you?  

For us and our neighbors, October means leaves.  And early November, still a red and golden world outdoors here in the North Carolina Piedmont.  Not so in Western North Carolina.  Our beautiful mountain communities were hit hard this year, tragic flooding, landslides and tornadoes.  Lives were lost.  Every place our family has ever visited in the Blue Ridge Mountains is under reconstruction. So all over our state, joys are tempered.  

But somehow, there is still pleasure in the changing season. What we feel first is an atmospheric change.  The somnolence of summer is over; where heat enervated, crisp air energizes.  Without the glare of the months just past, colors flare more vibrant.  Green in the warmth of August, with colder mornings the leaves' chlorophyll retreats, leaving carotenoid pigments in charge, boasting orange, yellow and gold, like the pumpkins and squashes covering patches and gardens. But only briefly.  Soon the ground will be covered with brown, not yellow leaves. The flamboyant decay will become stealthier. 

At the same time, sunrise and sunset reach their peak luminescence. With less water vapor in the air, we see more clearly.  Colors appear more vivid.  I never understood why before, but this year did some simple research on the science of autumn. It's so interesting.  As the earth turns on its axis away from the sun, light has to travel further to reach our eyes. Blue light scatters out long before it reaches us.  Only red and orange can make the 150 million kilometers to reach our eyes in a blazing sunrise or sunset.

So enjoy this beautiful sight, if you are lucky enough to share it with me. With thanks for whatever is before us.     Nina Naomi

IT'S NOVEMBER. CAN WE GIVE THANKS?

The month of horror movies is over and it's November, when we give thanks.  Not yet time for the angels to sing, but time to gather for another year of reckoning over turkey and gravy. For what are you thankful?  

This morning, even before rising from bed, gratitude for what entered your sleepy mind first?  The sounds of your children?  The smell of coffee?  That you have lunch planned with a friend?  Or mom is doing better?  Or you are?  For me, daily, it is my husband's arm around me, a last warm embrace before I begin to carefully navigate my unreliable morning back.  

Some, like me, may be thankful that the pain is not today as it was yesterday, when a mere sneeze brought a yelp.  Instead, you may have a new challenge to inspire you. Or be grateful for a friend who did something brave.  Or that Election Day is over.  You may feel appreciated.  That's worth a prayer of thanksgiving.  At the day's close, you might sit outside by the fire pit, as we have been doing, watching the sparks fly and the stars come out, the nights earlier just now.  So many things to be thankful for.  

But what if you have to dig within to give thanks?  What if you're remembering someone lost to you and have only their blessed brief or not-so-brief life to be thankful for?  Worse, what if they just left you, even yesterday or so it seems?  What if the time to be the one you need to be now has not yet passed and you fear it never will and also fear you might forget, and which is worse?  Or what if you're just plain lonely, or sick, and have to dig deeper? 

Sometimes blessings do seem buried, hidden.  Sometimes it is easy to give thanks but sometimes, maybe more often than not, we have to find a way through pain or grief or worry or fear.  We have to scale boulders so high they block our way.  I can't imagine how we do this except through the grace of God.  How else do we survive our tragedies and traumas and losses and illnesses and things that, truly, have no upside?  

Together, of course.  We are never alone.  Lonely, yes, people are.  But not alone.  We have friends.  We have family.  We seek help.  We have those who share our faith.  We have God.  

The most fearful things--not the horror movies we watched over Halloween--but mental, emotional and even physical sufferings, never belong to us alone.  There are times I have wanted more than spiritual blessings.  When an illness strikes, I have prayed for healing, not acceptance.  Or "Dear God, make this not be true."  But God Himself has transformed the prayer into something else.  I have not yet been unable to accept life, and death, as it is.  And you too, is it not so?  

We don't give thanks for losses, or suffering, or meanness.  Sometimes we can't give thanks for anything.  But God takes even just a thought, or tear, takes it all.  God takes our lives and inchoate prayers and makes something of them, something to which He responds giving us strength and grace, endurance and love.  We are children who are known and treasured and beyond all understanding given not what we ask for (perhaps) but what we need.  I don't understand this.  But of all that is difficult to accept, this is not.  

This must be a prayer.  AMEN