With Gratitude in Our Hearts

I am delighted that Canadian Thanksgiving occurs amidst the glories of autumn.   Fall has a beauty all its own.  During my morning walks, I’m in awe of the amazing changes occurring all around me.  The sun is still warm on my skin but there is a pungent smell in the air as trees begin to change their leaves from green to yellow, orange, and red. The sumac wears her crimson gown. Roses fade while asters, zinnias, and fall flowers show their purples, rusts, and golden hues. It reminds me of the school fair displays of flowers long ago. Grass grows longer and dew covers the lawn.  Overhead, I imagine the chirping birds are telling each other it’s time to fly south to the warmer climes.  Even the resident turkeys are keeping their distance from us these days.

Often, the autumn scene causes me to break into a quiet song as I wander throughout the neighbourhood.  Thanksgiving hymns from my childhood that are still sung today rise spontaneously from deep within my being.  I find the famous, “Now Thank We All Our God” surfacing and “For the Beauty of the Earth” giving voice to my elation.  Sometimes, it’s “God Created Earth and Heaven”; other times it’s “How Great Thou Art.”  No, I don’t forget The Old 100th tune, “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow.”

““With gratitude in your hearts, sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs to God” (Colossians 3:16).”

I think I’m in good company with autumn praise. St. Paul himself encourages us by exhorting, “With gratitude in your hearts, sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs to God” (Colossians 3:16).  Probably, you too, often respond to thanksgiving with song. Whether alone or in smaller groups to celebrate Thanksgiving this year, let us remember that God’s blessings are abundant and renewed each day and in every season of our life.

- Sister Jean Moylan, csj

Firefighters and Cookies

Occasionally, I just wish I could turn back the clock.  Such wishful thinking was particularly acute after I inadvertently made a blunder that resulted in totally unexpected consequences.  Yesterday, I was sent a list of blog ideas for 2020.  Nothing grabbed my blogging mind during a quick scan of the topics.  Not to worry, life happens, and in an instant, it provided a topic never dreamt of in my wildest dreams.  Let me explain. Imagine this scenario – a dreary Friday afternoon, just the perfect setting to enjoy a cup of tea and a homemade cookie while reading, “A Better Man”, by Louise Penny.  Homemade Christmas cookies always taste best when you eat them freshly baked.  The one I selected had become hard and was stuck to another cookie. To soften them, I popped them into the microwave for a couple of seconds.  First mistake.  Wouldn’t you know it, suddenly the microwave began to spew greyish smoke.  As it wasn’t a lot, I opened the door to the hallway to help dissipate it. Second mistake.  The smoke gently floated through the door, and yes, you guessed it – set off the fire alarm!  You know what I mean; it’s that horrible, shrill chirping that goes on and on and wouldn’t be stilled until those imposing men, dressed in firefighter garb, appeared to check out the situation, and me, the culprit. 

In hindsight, I was stunned at how two innocuous little cookies could set off such a dramatic incident. Thankfully, it was just a bit of smoke that brought three firefighters to the scene of the crime.  Just like the man in the novel I am reading, they were efficient, kind “better men” who commiserated with me, and were grateful that nothing terrible had happened.  Yes, they did what they had to do, in such a kindly manner which helped me feel less embarrassed about the whole sorry saga.  When I caught sight of the offending cookies sitting on the counter, I quickly fetched a bag of chocolate gingerbread hearts from the cupboard.  Well, wouldn’t you know it, these firefighters loved those cookies!  There were smiles all around as my unfortunate incident ended on a happy note. 

May God bless and protect all firefighters who have such tough jobs saving people, homes, and extinguishing devastating fires such as the ones that have recently ravaged Australia. Considering what it could have been, I am grateful that this unfortunate incident turned out to be merely a tempest in a tea pot.

- Sr. Magdalena Vogt, CPS

How Shall I Begin These Thanks Which Have No End?

As I sit in my cozy little living room these Thanksgiving evenings, I realize that life has been a blessing in every way. Where do I begin to express the thanks that swells in my heart and fills my soul?

I need not leave my room to pour out my heart with gratitude. The beauty of nature I view from the window speaks to me in the gold and reds of the graceful maple trees across the road. The daily gorgeous sunsets seen from the west window thrills my heart. A photo of my parents, now deceased, sitting in a place of honour near the window fills my heart with gratitude for the nurturing that was mine from birth until my wings were strong enough to fly into adulthood and take my place in the world.

The family photo of my maternal grandparents and their nine children causes me to thank my brave ancestors for daring to leave a homeland for Canada, a land of freedom and opportunity.

The gift of television and technology brings the world, with its joys and sorrows, to me through the little screen across the room.  Telephone calls bring me ample opportunities to hear and assist those who need a listening ear, attention, and friendship.

Dotting the walls are photos of friends and loved ones whose lives bring me friendship and the blessings of community.

A bowl of bright red apples sitting on the kitchen counter reminds me of the abundance of nature.

The crucifix on the wall over my bed speaks above all else, the true meaning of life and happiness. It is life surrendered, broken and poured out in love for each of us so that we might live not for ourselves but for others.

We need not venture outside our front doors to offer thanksgiving and know that we are truly blessed every day in every way. Truly, our thanks have no end.

-Sister Jean Moylan, cs