The Scribe’s Pen

Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home;
All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.

I love Thanksgiving…the sights, the smells, the sounds and most importantly the meaning.  There is something beautiful about late Fall when all the leaves have fallen off the trees, the first hard freeze, and the beautiful bright blue skies now devoid of Summer’s haze.  When I was a child Thanksgiving was a holiday unto it’s own.  Christmas wasn’t even mentioned until 10:00 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning when the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade came on T.V.  I never knew why they called it a Thanksgiving parade, because it was mostly about Christmas.   I guess the Macy’s parade was the slippery slope that led us to where we are today.  The Christmas season now starts pretty much on November 1st (and some places before that). It’s really another sad symptom of our society’s state and the commercialism that fuels us,  but that’s a post for another day.

I remember when even at school we sang Come Ye Thankful People Come, and Thanksgiving was actually “observed” in and of itself and not noted as the day the “holiday shopping season” officially starts.  I remember making the pilgrim hats and Indian smocks out of brown grocery bags.  I remember bringing a fruit or vegetable to school and/or church to put in the cornucopia, and most importantly I remember actually hearing the story of Thanksgiving.

Two weeks ago I was listening to Family Life Today, on my way back to work from an appointment, and they were running a series on the first English settlers including the story of the first Thanksgiving.  If you have never heard the history of the pilgrims you need to take the time and read it.  It will blow you away.  That first Winter supplies and food were so meager that many days the food ration per person was five kernels of corn! Yet, God miraculously sustained them on such meager rations.  Yes, they lost weight to the point that the newcomers the next year didn’t even recognize some of their own family members, but no one starved to death.  God also kept them healthy, and no major flu or other  illness epidemics occurred that first year.  If you read (or listen to) the full story you cannot come away with any other conclusion than God worked miracles in the lives of the first English settlers in America.  Really, how the settlers managed to survive the first three difficult years is quite a testimony.

So, that’s the reason  it makes me sad that as country we just brush over Thanksgiving.  If it wasn’t for God’s sustaining power in the first year and every year since this country would not be where it is today.

We have forgotten how to be thankful.  In our mad dash for the new hot gadget or toy of the season we forget to be truly humble and thankful.  No, most of us will never know what it’s like to subsist on five kernels of corn per day.  Heck, the snack mix I’m eating while I type this has probably 20 times that amount, but if we forget to be thankful then how long will it be before society crumbles?

I daresay…not too long.

Come Ye Thankful People Come…