Therefore,Thanksgiving

Memories of past Thanksgivings swirl my soul and marinate in my mind. When I was young I never thought dressing as Pilgrims and Native Americans was wrong. Learning of all cultures, and the time of celebration together, only grew my respect and appreciation. Although some may consider early learning incorrect (morally, politically, or historically) I am grounded in the belief we are all created equal; nothing will change that. Four hundred years have passed since that first gathering of thanks and praise for an Autumn bounty. How did this day become a permanent place on our calendars? There’s a woman we can thank-and her last name happens to be Hale.


A love story began between a man and a woman-it was 1811. Two years later they wed. Sarah, so beautifully, described she and David’s home life as this:

“We commenced, soon after our marriage, a system of study and reading which we pursued while he lived. The hours allowed were from eight o’clock in the evening till ten; two hours in the twenty-four: how I enjoyed those hours! In all our mental pursuits, it seemed the aim of my husband to enlighten my reason, strengthen my judgment, and give me confidence in my own powers of mind, which he estimated much higher than I. But this approbation which he bestowed on my talents has been of great encouragement to me in attempting the duties that have since become my portion.”

Their next nine years of marriage welcomed five children. Sadly, David died from complications of pneumonia just two weeks before the fifth child was born. Single at 34, with five children, Sarah used the encouragement she had received from her husband to continue her career in writing (she wore black for the remainder of her life).


Sarah Josepha Hale was born on October 24th, 1788, in Newport, New Hampshire. Having a family that believed in education, Sarah was supported in all endeavors. She turned to writing as a form of income when she was widowed. In 1827 her first novel was published in the U.S., Northwood: Life North and South. In London it was titled A New England Tale. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Josepha_Hale, n.d.)

Her book was praised by a pastor that asked Hale to move to Boston to serve as an editor of his journal, Ladies Magazine. As the first female editor of a magazine in the United States, she applied scrupulous standards (https://www.womenhistoryblog.com/2012/04/sarah-josepha-hale.html, n.d.). During this time, she even published an anthology of poems (Poems for Our Children)-included was “Mary Had a Little Lamb” (1830). Originally written from her teaching days which began at age 18 (unheard of at that time) it was titled “Mary’s Lamb.” Later in the 1830’s, Lowell Mason set the nursery rhyme to a melody adding repetition in the verses.

MARY’S LAMB.

Mary had a little lamb,
   Its fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went
   The lamb was sure to go ;
He followed her to school one day—
   That was against the rule,
It made the children laugh and play,
   To see a lamb at school.

And so the teacher turned him out,
   But still he lingered near,
And waited patiently about,
   Till Mary did appear ;
And then he ran to her, and laid
   His head upon her arm,
As if he said—‘ I’m not afraid—
   You’ll keep me from all harm.’

What makes the lamb love Mary so ?’
   The eager children cry—
 O, Mary loves the lamb, you know,’
   The Teacher did reply ;—
And you each gentle animal
   In confidence may bind,
And make them follow at your call,
   If you are always kind.’
-Sarah Josepha Hale
On a sidenote: In many hours of research and reading for this piece I became intrigued at the controversy surrounding this poem. At 70 years old Mary Tyler (in 1876) claimed she was “Mary” from the poem. She did indeed keep a lamb. Mary remembered a Reverend’s nephew, John Roulstone, writing about the incident of the lamb. The Redstone School where Mary attended now sits in Sudbury, Massachusetts. Without making you travel further down the lamb’s hole with me feel free to research more if you wish! 😊

In 1841 Sarah moved to Philadelphia and made Godey’s Lady’s Book (named after a Philadelphia publisher who bought out her original magazine, combined the two magazines, and hired her as his editor). It’s reported that many feminists scorned her for not being more involved in politics. For four decades she worked to promote educational opportunities for women, just as males. Hale wrote at least seventeen articles and editorials about women’s education. She was awarded a medal in 1860 from the Baltimore Female College. She also used her position to promote American writers. She made major contributions in choosing to publish works by Edgar Allen Poe, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Ralph Waldo Emerson, just to name a few. Morally, she wished for uplifting novels and work. She raised money for various historic sites-helping to preserve George Washington’s home and financially supporting the construction of the Bunker Hill Monument.

Using her persuasive writing skills (and MUCH patience) Sarah spent seventeen years writing to leading U.S. presidents and politicians to push for a national celebration of Thanksgiving. Hundreds of letters went to governors, ministers, and editors as well.

It was 1863. The country was torn in half by war and dissention. A time of Thanksgiving was needed-just as in 1621 when the Plymouth colonists and the Wampanoag shared a meal to celebrate the Autumn harvest. One letter ended up in President Lincoln’s hand. He liked Hale’s idea. On October 3, 1863, he issued a proclamation declaring the last Thursday of November to be National Day of Thanksgiving and Praise. He ordered all government offices in Washington closed on that day. Sarah’s efforts earned her the nickname “Mother of Thanksgiving”. Hale enjoyed many Thanksgiving celebrations after that. She died on April 30, 1879, at the age of 90.

This day of unification was established to ease the stress of the country.


This Thursday, as I sit around the family table with my precious family (and in spirit with all who won’t be seated with us), I’ll be reminded that our freedom wasn’t without a fight of faith. Yes, our freedom from our sacrificial Lamb was given at no cost to us. We don’t have to fight that fight. For a country that seems torn by opposite opinions and acts of aggression, I pray that assaults will cease. Not just on the Day of Thanksgiving and Praise, but every day.

Not long ago a new tradition began on social media. Friendsgiving is a wonderful thing. As thankful as I am for family, I’m grateful for friends too. To those here, in this space, that have supported my writing and beginning a new career-for becoming like family to me-thank you. You are loved.

🤍 May gratitude and grace ground us all.🤍

Have faith💚


The Peterson’s here in Branson, Missouri 🤍 ’tis an honor to live in the Ozark’s!
Bibliography

(2021.). Retrieved from https://www.womenhistoryblog.com/2012/04/sarah-josepha-hale.html.

(2021). Retrieved from National Women’s History Museum: https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/sarah-hale

(2021). Retrieved from https://www.almanac.com/sarah-josepha-hale-godmother-thanksgiving: https://www.almanac.com/sarah-josepha-hale-godmother-thanksgiving

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Josepha_Hale. (2021).

The history of Thanksgiving prior to our National Day:
During the American Revolution, the Continental Congress designated one or more days of thanksgiving a year, and in 1789 George Washington issued the first Thanksgiving proclamation by the national government of the United States; in it, he called upon Americans to express their gratitude for the happy conclusion to the country’s war of independence and the successful ratification of the U.S. Constitution. His successors John Adams and James Madison also designated days of thanks during their presidencies. New York even had a designated day of Thanksgiving. But much of the country, including the South, remained unfamiliar with this day. https://www.history.com/topics/thanksgiving/history-of-thanksgiving


Hello, November

Much have I spoken of the faded leaf;	
    Long have I listened to the wailing wind,	
And watched it ploughing through the heavy clouds,	
    For autumn charms my melancholy mind.	
 
When autumn comes, the poets sing a dirge:
    The year must perish; all the flowers are dead;	
The sheaves are gathered; and the mottled quail	
    Runs in the stubble, but the lark has fled!	
 
Still, autumn ushers in the Christmas cheer,	
    The holly-berries and the ivy-tree:
They weave a chaplet for the Old Year’s bier,	
    These waiting mourners do not sing for me!	
 
    I find sweet peace in depths of autumn woods,	
    Where grow the ragged ferns and roughened moss;	
The naked, silent trees have taught me this,—
    The loss of beauty is not always loss!

Elizabeth Drew Stoddard

Finley Frolicking

Full Plate

We’re sitting around the family table. I can’t help but smile. Can we all share one thing in which we’re grateful? The laughter is contagious. Dad’s at the head of the table~Momma seated by him. My sons, daughter-in-laws, sisters, brother-in-law, niece, and for the first time, my grandkids are with us too.

An hour before we sat down we had joined Mom in the kitchen to break up bread for dressing (and sample any other divinely delectable dishes that will soon blanket the family table). Our hunger had time to build (who would dare show up to Mom’s “not hungry”?). Yet, we knew there’d be leftovers to share with others; and with those who had none. Today we are thankful. Shouldn’t I feel this everyday?

This isn’t how Thanksgiving is going to look this year. For many of us. We won’t be sitting at the same table. But my plate is still going to be full.

“Carve the turkey please!”~I’m going to carve time each day to sit in silence with thankfulness and praise.

“Dip me some mashed potatoes.”~I’m going to soulfully dip more discernment and determination.

“Pour on that gravy!”~I’m going to pour on the gratitude over every little thing in my life. And you can bet I’m gonna pour some on you.

“Grab a roll!”~I’ll drop anything too hot to handle and “bona fide butter up” Jesus for being my bread of life. I’ll do my best to grab the things that matter the most.

“Dish me some green bean casserole!”~I’m going to dish out positivity, kindness, and concern as much as possible; and season it as needed.

“Scoop me some stuffing!”~I’m going to take every opportunity to scoop out negative thoughts and shovel in repeated positive thoughts of love and truth.

“Slice me off a piece of that pie!”~I’m going to slice, into bits, the mega moves that like to leave me with “pie in the face” and swap it with a huge sliver of the sweet things in life.

“Hand me a napkin please!”~I’m going to continue to wipe off what’s messy and being thankful for the clean towel provided each day.

How full is your plate? For some, our plates are full of all the things we need to do or feel we should do. For 30 days I’ve spent many hours in my tiny space excited, and a bit scared, about a new move. My plate is full. And ironically, they’re paper plates~I can’t put anymore on them. Soon I’ll be sitting in my new small house (bigger than “tiny”). No longer will I live in a home on wheels. I’ll have bigger cupboards to fill and a full-size refrigerator. I’m not going to worry about my black and gray tanks, my propane levels, and the space. I’ve learned from my own family, and by living “tiny”, one really doesn’t need much. And as soon as I have my own family table again I’ll plenish my platter with what really matters.

Have faith 💚

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7
My sweet parents ordered us “kids” a Thanksgiving Meal as a way to celebrate at a distance. Now if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. ❣