Thanksgiving Day cometh different to us all.©REDCAT
Each according their own season.
Sometimes singing praise feels straight-forward,
sometimes the praise have to be a defiant trust,
that there is a future of hope, even though
it’s shrouded in mist, obscure, unknown.
To let us rest in the Hope of Grace.
Mind swirling, I should finish the poem I started earlier, from text that never got included in the prompts I participated in this week.
(After the rain, Life in words, Onyx darkness, Giant Hogweed, Longing, Ode to a Dancer and Monsters.)
But my mind won’t settle. Instead I contemplate Thanksgiving, run around preparing for this Sunday’s First of Advent – by hanging Advent stars and light around the house – and making lists for the marathon month to come. I’m also mentally preparing to be on stage in four dance-shows this weekend.
Saw a comment the other day about us not having Thanksgiving in Sweden.
I was brought up in the Swedish Protestant (meaning Lutheran) Church. Both because mother wanted it so. And because in the small town I grew up, singing – both as a soloist and in a choir – where done either in municipality or church management. I did both.
And I clearly remember one church holiday focused on thanksgiving.
So I wen’t googling…
Thanksgiving Day occurs on the second Sunday of October (between 8-14 October) for the purpose of giving thanks for the harvest and the bounty’s of the forests and fields. It falls when the seasons change, when there is no more hope of sustenance from farming or foraging until spring. And before Christmas when the last pigs on fattening gets slaughtered.
(On Christmas it’s all about hope, hope for the newborn baby, and hope that a clever farm-wife will stretch the winter stores until spring.)
Yes, I promise to one day explain how I can talk about things from both the Boomer and Silent generation perspective, while being from the last decade of generation X. :-)
Also posted to dVerse ~ OpenLinkNight #255