Dear God: It’s me, Lorraine. Every Thanksgiving, as you know, I count faith, family, friends — and pecan pie — among my blessings.
This year, though, I realized I’ve overlooked some big treasures in the past — so I’m setting the record straight.
Let’s begin with the luminescent supermoon — debuting earlier this week — that was the nearest full moon to the Earth since 1948.
I stepped onto the front porch and looked skyward, and at first saw nothing. Then there it was, peeking through a space between my neighbors’ houses — a fat, fancy, glowing orb that stopped me in my tracks.
Thank you also, dearest Lord, for all the furry beasts you give us to enjoy. I confess I'm sometimes hunkered down in a cozy chair, watching Netflix with my cat, Mr. Fuzziwuz — and missing the outdoor show.
But I did peek outside a few weeks ago when the porch security lights switched on — and spotted a rotund raccoon lumbering from the underbrush toward my car.
Another day, I glimpsed the white flash of a rabbit’s tail, as it skedaddled toward neighbor Ruth’s house.
Thank you for the wildlife thriving in rapidly developing Decatur — especially owls that call mysteriously in the black, velvety night and hawks sailing serenely through the morning clouds.
Lord, in the midst of all the political hubbub, the endless droning of media gurus dissecting every sentence and gesture of politicians, help me treasure Mother Nature — who doesn’t care about slogans, campaign promises or Facebook posts.
She’s given me grapevines decked out in yellow and green, maple trees adorned in red, cardinals crowding the birdbath — and even that industrious woodpecker who hammers on the wall when I try to nap.
And, oh, the clouds that change rapidly from bears to dragons to giants, as they decorate the cerulean sky.
Please forgive me for the times I’ve been answering text messages instead of admiring your heavenly canvas.
So many blessings abound in nearby Hidden Cove Park, where a small waterfall graces the creek that runs beside silent, winding paths as chipmunks and squirrels dart among the leaves.
There’s that cherry tree that gets confused each fall and produces pink flowers — but then corrects its mistake at the first frost.
And my fig tree that birthed one last fruit in early fall — as if to say, “Here’s my final performance until next summer.”
Lord, please don’t let me get distracted by one-day sales and Black Friday specials. Please help me realize that when you walked upon the Earth, you cherished the fields of lilies, the stars and moon, and stirring seas.
You knew the psalm, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”
As I tuck into my pecan pie on Thanksgiving Day, I’ll cherish the joys that come without apps, coupons and passwords. The purring cat, the sleeping hamster, the birds’ songs, the rose’s scent, the fig’s sweetness.
Ecclesiastes tells us, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” And I can only add, “Amen.”
About the Author
