Happy Thanksgivukkah!

The holiday season is upon us. For those in the U.S., today is Thanksgiving. For our Jewish brothers and sisters, it’s the beginning of Hanukkah. For many Christians, tomorrow the Christmas season begins.

It seems that regardless of our faith or nationality, this time of a year is a time when most people are in the mindset of wanting to slow down (even as things get hectic!) and count blessings and share gifts and open hearts…to reflect on the good in life and to try to share a little of that with others.

President Monson’s talk, The Divine Gift of Gratitude, is a great talk to review on this day.

We are also grateful to Susan Noyes Anderson for being willing to share some of her harvest and gratitude poetry with us to celebrate this special time of year. While her poetry is written with a Christian/LDS audience in mind, we hope those not of our faith traditions (or not living in the northern hemisphere where the harvest season just ended!) can still enjoy the messages of her poetry.

I love how the poetry also connects to the beautiful message of the video we shared yesterday: Giving Thanks isn’t a Holiday.

(See more of Susan Noyes Anderson’s holiday poetry.)

Harvest Gifts: I love how this poem not only celebrates the principles found in the harvest season, but also celebrates the wisdom of ages past, and points the reader’s mind toward the future when we someday meet our God.

This poem also reflects on the principles that can be learned from the cycle of the harvest: To Every Thing there is a Season

Thanks be to God: A beautiful reflection on how all that life brings is part of God’s wise plan for our growth and progress.

In Every Thing Give Thanks: A poem that reminds us of the power of faith in God even when times are difficult

How Excellent is Thy Name: This poem is a prayerful piece, taking from the text of Psalms 8:1-9. It would be a beautiful one to read with family members while asking them what they are grateful for.

The post Happy Thanksgivukkah (+ some poetry shared by an LDS poet) appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

Counterparts

©1984 by Susan Noyes Anderson

Great Grandma walked across the plains,
her blue dress grey with travel stains.
She bore the hardship, for she knew
her faith in the Lord would see her through.
Her once pink hands were calloused now,
and she had said good-bye somehow
to husband dear and children lost,
praying the end would be worth the cost.

I walk the darkened city street,
my hurried footsteps keeping beat
with a trembling heart, but I swallow my fear,
reminding myself that the Lord is near.
I wear my travel stains deep inside,
where I battle iniquity’s rising tide,
praying husband and children will not be lost;
and that the end will be worth the cost.

We all must walk these earthly miles;
different times bring different trials.

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This is a very personal poem written in tribute to my parents and my heritage. It was given as an exercise in personal discovery and gratitude to those who came before me. It might help the reader to know that at the age of three I had polio and spent several years in a hospital dealing with the aftermath. My father was artistic and was a gifted potter. My mother was a loyal wife and mother, not unlike women of her era who had very little choices in the direction their lives would take. Sacrifice was automatic for them as they raised their children and supported their husbands.

I am the daughter of
soil tillers, stone masons, educators,
tale spinners, musicians, shepherds,
fishermen, potters, dreamers, visionaries.

I have seen my father
mold a lump of clay into an object of beauty,
just as he taught his sons to fish
and his daughters to dream.

I have witnessed my father
as he rescued a lost soul from the street,
fed him, clothed him, and gave him back his spirit.

I watched as my father
buried his son, fought for the life of his wife,
sacrificed his dream for the welfare of his obligations.

I remember my mother
laboring over the wringer
with squares of hot, wet, wool,
wrapping her child’s limbs,
that she might walk again.

I was there when my mother
entered the depths of grief at her loss,
and rose to welcome another not of her womb.

I have marveled as my mother
stood loyally at her her husband’s side,
as he dreamed his dreams
then follow him faithfully, not unlike Sariah.

For them life was a struggle,
nothing was easy. Their love for each other
and their children gave them life’s satisfaction.
They lived simply, but fully, and I am rich
for the legacy that is mine.

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Clancy shares this poem, with this introduction: There are times in life where I’ve felt like I’m floundering… bobbing along with no direction and accomplishing very little. It was during one of those times, a January in my life, that I realized, as I walked past my flower garden wherein lay the frozen roots of perennial flowers and shrubs, that something happens to those roots in those cold, dark times that cycle through every year. I don’t understand the physics or biological processes that occur, but the results, when the weather warms, is the beautiful conclusion of that process that I don’t fully understand. From that life-metaphor came this poem which helped me have the faith to get through my own dark, cold cycle in life.

Green and lush, with fragrance sweet
And variegated colors,
The flower thrives on warm summer days
With sun and soil and water.

As days grow short and seasons change,
The blossom dies, the color fades,
Withdrawing into its stable roots
Vitality that held the bloom.

Clouds roll in, and snows descend,
Covering life with a blanket.
Sounds are hushed. Life is still,
But growth goes on beneath it.

What growth occurs, the eye can’t see,
The blanket quietly hides,
While covered up with frost and earth
The root grows strong inside.

Gently loosening it’s hold,
The frost begets the waters’ flow.
Days grow longer. Life awakes.
The dormant root, its quiet breaks.

Shoots reach up with perfect faith,
The cold a forgotten friend,
Through the earth ’til surface breaks
Where life begins again.

Harsh, though, that blanket seems
Of cold and snow and frozen earth,
Life demands those quiet times
Where after comes rebirth.

——-

For more Sharing Our Voices content, including poetry, see here.

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This poem was written for a sister who relived my pain and guilt when she forgave me of something that happened so long ago, she’d actually forgotten the incident. I on the other hand, clung to the guilt until I confessed to her and was absolved.

I wallowed, all too long,
In depths of sorrow,
For deeds of the past
Unforgotten.

A seed of grief,
Buried in a pit of guilt,
Sprouting anguish,
Nourishing itself.

Reaching up from
My grave of fear,
Heaven touched me,
You said, “I forgive.”

Like a forest bathed in new snow,
Washed in pristine white,
Baptized in the light of love,
I am forgiven.

The post Poetry: Forgiven appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

This poem was written as an exercise in self-examination — What am I? The first part is a description of what I think I am. The second part is a description of the things I have accomplished that were surprising to me. The Third question is what has amazed me about myself. The last stanza is a declaration of who I really am.

What Am I?

What am I?
daughter,
sister,
mother,
wife,
teacher,
nurse.

Am I what?
chef,
seamstress,
poet,
pupil,
friend.

I am what?
grandmother,
widow,
dreamer,
survivor.

What I am,
child of God.

For more Poetry submissions, please click here.

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