Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. Yes, I will admit, I love Christmas music, and can’t wait for the first of November, so that I can listen to joyful music with abandon. But my delight in listening to uplifting music is only compounded by Thanksgiving. I love the fact that Thanksgiving is a holiday that hasn’t become too commercial. There aren’t big, fat,  fake turkeys lurking on every corner, the decorations are more fall-like than “Thanksgiving” in nature and holiday stress hasn’t quite settled in.

Even more than that, I love what Thanksgiving represents for me. First, the pilgrims, people just like the rest of us, who were trying to survive in a new land. I can imagine their fears and frustrations with the New World, which was so foreign to them. Trying to eke a living from the unforgiving land must have seemed an impossible task, and facing unknown enemies made the challenge nearly insurmountable. So, I first acknowledge and am thankful for all of us, who are working against all odds to raise our families, to put food on the table and to survive in a world that seems hostile at times. I am thankful for a job I love, and people who support and encourage me every day. I am so blessed to make a living doing something I love.

Another thing I love about Thanksgiving is family. My childhood memories of Thanksgiving include lots of cousins, aunts and uncles who gathered together to gossip, argue and eat too much. By the end of Thanksgiving weekend, the cousins had pummeled each other until they established the proper pecking order. Fortunately, as the eldest cousin, I was typically on the top of the heap, bleeding slightly in the snow. I won’t lie. Another vivid memory is of one or more uncles passed out in the living room, in front of the television, watching a blurry game of football. Back in the day, we didn’t have a hundred cable channels. We had rabbit ears with aluminum foil, and college football, and lots of beer, wine and other beverages for adult consumption only. By the end of the weekend, some aunts and uncles were no longer on speaking terms. Once again, I think they were establishing their pecking order, in a different manner than the cousins. Personally, I believe the fisticuffs was a more direct way to determine honor than arguing.

Now days, I am thankful for family. Not just for my eight children, who are flung far and wide across the country, but for my friends and their families, who so warmly welcome us to participate in their lives. Spending time with family is one of my treasured holiday traditions, and though I likely won’t be passed out in front of the T.V., you can bet that the younger kids and I will be watching more than our share of holiday movies. I will start with “A Wonderful Life”, which brings tears to my eyes every time I realize how blessed I really am.

One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is that we can eat what we want, usually guilt free. One of the hallmarks of my life has been my tremendous capacity to carry around guilt. Not all of it is deserved, but I burden myself none-the-less. I have a lot of food related guilt, about what I should or should not be eating, whether something is on my diet, whether something will make me fat. You know the routine. I’m sure many of you are in the same food-deprivation mindset. But during Thanksgiving, I allow myself to enjoy culinary pleasures without the nagging voice telling me I shouldn’t. I am so thankful for the bounty and variety of food available to us in this country. Even in the middle of Wyoming, in the middle of winter (technically in the middle of fall), we have access to fresh fruits and vegetables, meat and bread to an extent unimagined in other countries. We are so blessed to live here and now.

Finally, Thanksgiving is a time to relax and be grateful and that is one of my favorite things. I like having a day to reflect on the many blessings in my life. I appreciate an entire day dedicated to giving thanks.

Meister Eckhart, a German theologian, philosopher and mystic said, “If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough.”

I try to live my life remembering those simple words. Thank you. I am grateful for a town that I can call home, for the kindness of friends and strangers, and for the love of the people around me.

Life is beautiful and Thanksgiving provides us an opportunity to pause just a moment, look around and utter the simple prayer, “Thank you”. 

Most of us will never do great things. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean you aren’t great. You are. I appreciate you. What I mean to say is that most of us will never do that one great thing.

Unfortunately, we put off living, because of that one elusive great thing. Can’t cure cancer? Well, I guess I won’t be a doctor then. Can’t change lives? Then forget teaching. If I can’t get straight A’s, then I might as well not bother with college. I suppose you get the gist. It seems easier to give up, than to be less than great. The perfectionist tendency has led to the abrupt ending of a lot of small things.

Although you are capable of great things, real life is lived amid the small things, and it is those things we can do well.

As we look at our lives, it can become discouraging and disheartening to realize that great things will eternally elude us. What I have discovered, and want to pass on to you, is that each and every one of us can do small things with great love.

Now, don’t roll your eyes. It’s true. Small things surround us on a daily basis. Our lives are defined by the small things we do each day. When you add love to those small things, they become, dare I say, great. Each act can be infused with a great deal of kindness and love. Every act done with intention becomes great in itself.

You don’t have to change the world. It is enough to change where you are. Serve those around you with kindness. Extend forgiveness instead of harshness. Small things done with kindness make a difference in every life.

I’ll share a recent experience to illustrate the power of intention, or the lack thereof.

A friend and I went to lunch together. As we entered the establishment, the person behind the counter was shouting to or at a person in the back.

She didn’t acknowledge us or greet us. She continued her loud, angry conversation and headed toward the back.

When she finally came out, she demanded to know what we wanted. I sheepishly placed my order, feeling like an intruder into a private conversation. The air was alive with their negative energy.

As we found our seats, I said, “I hope that angry girl isn’t making our food.”  Alas and alack. It was meant to be. The angry energy that permeated the restaurant found its way into my lunch, as the girl threw the ingredients together.

I always enjoy the food I eat at this particular restaurant. It is usually pretty tasty. This time, however, I had the worst meal I have ever eaten there. It was bland and tasteless. Although I order the same thing every time I go there, this time was different. It tasted different. And it sat in my stomach all day, a constant reminder of someone else’s anger.

A study in the journal Social Psychological and Personality Science suggests that physical events are influenced by the intentions of those involved.

When you set about your daily tasks, filling yourself with good intentions, or good energy will not only benefit you, but it will also benefit those you serve.

Mother Teresa said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

The small things you accomplish with great love reflect in your life to magnify and lighten it. Life is lived in the small moments, done with love.

Namaste, friends

It seems I have already lived many lives. I’m not talking about previous lives as a dog, or a goddess, or the president. I was recently talking with a friend about our grown children. As we looked back, into those early days, she commented that it seemed like someone else’s life. Although she remembers doing those things, it feels like someone else lived that life.

And then, another friend said last week, that he would do something in another lifetime. Why wait? You can begin a new life today.

I have lived many lives, and plan to live many more before I die at 111.

There was my nerdy high-school life, during which I wore old neckties from the thrift store, kept to myself and read a lot of books. I still read a lot of books, but now I wear hats, rather than peculiar ties.

There was the life, albeit quite brief, when I was a cheerleader. I thought I would like that life, but the nerd in me cried out in rebellion, and I had to leave that life behind. It didn’t really suit me.

For many years, I lived the life of a meek, mild mannered woman, barefoot and pregnant. I kept my eyes down, my mouth shut and my bible open. While I learned a lot about God and discovered much about myself, my soul was bereft and unexpressed.

There was a life I lived when I wore lots of make-up, fake nails, and high heels every day. That life was a lot of work. And it was not a lot of fun. Most of the lives I lived, before now, were not fun. They were hard.

Henry David Thoreau said, “Most men live lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

You don’t have just one life. You live one lifetime with many different lives. You are not the same now as you were years ago. And you will be different again. There is one lifetime, during which you can express the song in your heart. Leave the quiet desperation and break free.

You can create the life you want. You can live the song. You can choose a different life.

In this life, I am a writer. That is something I only dreamed of in previous lives. During those lives, I struggled against the quiet desperation that threatened to stifle me. I sought my hearts desire. And one day, I remembered that little girl I had been, who was plucky and brave. That girl wrote a letter to Stephen King. That girl said she would be an author. And when Stephen King wrote back, do you want to know what he said? He said, “If you want to be a writer, then you have to write.”

I finally decided that if I would really be a writer, then I must write. And so I write because it makes my heart sing.

Each of us has a song in our heart. There is something out there, in this world that will make you smile. Seek it out. Your soul longs to express the fullness of itself. You can do this: you can express who you were created to be.

Life is more than quietly waiting. Life is grand. The song must be sung. We each have a different song, a different calling, and a fuller life.

Today you can decide to start a new life. Listen for the song, and let it play. Leave behind the quiet desperation and for a moment listen to your heart. You will know exactly what to do.

Namaste, friends.