It’s almost here. Another year’s finale! It’s December 1st and here in S.W. Missouri we reached a high of 63. Tomorrow we may set a record high! My mums aren’t completely dead, the leaves are still around, and my Christmas wreath adorns my door. The temps aren’t the only thing fluctuating this time of year.
Is your peace pushed around by pressure? Is authentic awe alienated by entertainment? Does your joy feel jaded? Is your faith frazzled?
You made it to December.
Are you standing where you can see the star?
Are you able to sit in the glow of the tree and the son?
Moms and Dads, I’m thinking of you as you busily prepare for the holidays. Your kids will remember the magic as you rally through the mania. Grandparents, I’m thinking of you as you treasure the transport of traditions. May your memories make a meaningful mark. Alone or with many, may the magic of the message find you. You are loved.
And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”
-Luke 2:9-14
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!
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
By all means pull up a chair. You’re invited to the Family Table. If you would, please save the head of the table for my Dad. We’re really glad you’re here~whether you’re family or not. Oh, you want to talk? Then could you kindly put down your phone while we eat? We may not all agree. Even if our talk isn’t relatable, I’ll wager you’ll still enjoy the food and the laughter.
Can you smell the enticing aromas wafting from the kitchen? Mom can cook or bake a “mean” anything. Truly she is a “Top Chef”, “The Great Bake-Off” ,”Chopped” winner in my cookbook. Instead of “Hell’s Kitchen” I’ll name it “Hale’s Kitchen”. Before you grab that plate would you join us in prayer?
You go first. Momma always fills up last. And you better fill that plate full! Remember that she has enough to feed an army. At one time there were young ones around that would be seated at the kid’s table (don’t all families have a “kid” table) and us adults would sit at the “big” table. THE FAMILY TABLE.
It was 1970-something on any given Sunday. Us kids sat at our table. Settled around the Family Table were ALL of my grandparents~ and at times, aunts & uncles (even greats!) and cousins. Sometimes I would intently listen to the conversations. Some were serious, others not. And an explosion of laughter always occurred. We had our own “kid” chats and laughter going on too.
By the late 80’s I graduated from the kid’s table to the adult table. All of us would trickle in from a Sunday service at different times (depending on how many hands you shook or hugs you gave after Sunday service). We were a noisy group. Can you hear the giggling and the laughter?
By mid-90’s us “kids” had kids. And there was even more laughter and noise coming through the front door. The path from the front door to the living room and the kitchen should be worn slick. Truly it’s unbelievable that my parents haven’t had to replace the flooring each year.
I’m not for sure if you want to jump in right now on the conversation. It tends to ping back and forth between subject matter.
“What did you think of the service?” You would hear many thoughts and opinions. Those included the length of the preaching to the farmer snoring in his “assigned” pew. What was the intended message for us to receive? We each had our own experience to share or not to share.
“What about current affairs?” And the replies would include various thoughts about politics, administration, current conflicts, and gas prices just to name a few.
“Did you see what they were wearing?” Of course our family spoke about fashion. We might’ve been “country”, but we had some style sense. (Imagine one of my grandmas in her cute dress and the other in her trendy pants and blouses). Comments might include the style and color. We tried to stay trendy.
“Did you see that movie?” And the replies would jump back and forth between comments circling different genres~from crime dramas and romance to historical fiction and epic award-winning big feature films! And of course, comedies.
“Did you hear so and so died?” , “Did you know so and so got married?”, “Did you know so and so had a baby?” Even if I weren’t familiar with that particular person I would know his or her second cousin twice-removed (population 550 during those days). There were, and still are, many conversations of the suffering and celebrations of community members.
“What did you think of the music?” And the replies would range from, “it was too loud” to “that was the best song I’ve ever heard.” Before I speak more of music, Mom would like to know who wants coffee and dessert. When you join us at the Table again, please refrain from making two trips for plate refills; lest, you will deny the dessert (and this makes Momma a bit sad).
If you’re part of the menfolk go ahead and meander towards the living room. More than likely there will be viewing and discussion of golf, baseball, football, horse racing, or other sports that are currently playing (I must admit I liked being in those conversations). Us ladies will stay at the TABLE and gossip visit. “Lord, we know you just spoke to us about being kind to others.”
If you’re a kid, you’re in luck! There’s probably MORE treats in the freezer. Get out there and swing and play! And if you fall, “shake it off!”
Thank you for carrying your plates to the kitchen. Momma will tell you “it’s ok, I’ve got nothing but time to clean this up!” We will all try to pitch in anyway. The sooner we could get the kitchen tidied up, the quicker we’d be to the piano!
“Let’s all sit in the living room where it’s comfy!” Men, kindly end your discussion. Dad, join us at the piano please. Let the music begin. Dad sang bass or treble and Momma sang alto. Us girls would sing whatever we wished. And we all sang our hearts out. Maybe this isn’t your style of music. That’s ok. We’ll belt out “I wanna See Jesus”, “His Eye is on the Sparrow”, and my favorite, “Sheltered in the Arms of God”, and still join you singing a country ballad or whatever song you’d like.
Since my first memory of that table (when I could stand under it) I’m astounded at the waves of life changes. Conversations have shifted with times. Politics, fashion, entertainment, people, and music are all still discussed. Although there are less seats around the Table, the spirit of love from all that have gathered there still exists. I feel it each time I sit down. And the aroma of every good memory lingers in the kitchen air.
Year 2020 will be one we’ll never forget. Families are spending more time together, and hopefully, around a family Table. Each table is different. Yet we all share one thing in common besides food~the love of a family. As I look ahead to the future~times with my own adult children and grandkids at their tables, I smile. As I hum a tune, I’ll giggle with them and tell them the stories of love around the Family Table.
While Flannel with Faith is where I share my heart, Finley River Publishing is where you'll find my book and the shop collection. Read the story behind the collection here!
