Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

Thankfulness is not a seasonal dress, (writes Elizabeth Lathrop Powers,)

To wear awhile and then pack away;

It is a garment meant for daily wear,

Not just to decorate the holiday.

Its colors will not fade with constant use;

The fabric will not weaken with the wear.

Each fold will keep its beauty and its strength

And all who touch it will absorb a share.

'Tis not a gown to purchase for a price,

Nor copy as to cut and fit and line;

It must be patterned by one's circumstance

And fashioned to the style of life's design.

I like the idea that thankfulness is something to wear. Even more, I like the thought that our 'thankful garb' will not fade nor weaken with wear. Thankfulness on us, as a cloak, can be touched and absorbed by others, too.

Tonight, however, my thankfulness will be in words. Words like "carrots" – dug and stored. "Garden" – empty and tilled.

"Sister" is a word of thankfulness, when we work together to clean Dad's house before the planned Sunday dinner. The treasures in our hearts come on our lips as we work. 'Kindred spirits' are thankfulness words.

"Safe trips" when kin travel together are words of thankfulness. Into Saturday's morning sun my husband and I traveled with some of his siblings and their spouses to be guests at the home of his youngest sister and her family who live in Lancaster County. A beautiful table was spread with her fine chinaware and pretty evergreen sprigs held a dry, brown hydrangea flower in the center. The meal was a feast for both our eyes and our hungry bellies. Without food, would we have thankfulness?

"Family" – our beginning and our ending, is a thankfulness word. The sun shone all day but the winds were sharp, cutting short our outdoor stroll. Stiff oak leaves, in shiny mahogany colors, lay scattered on the lawn, after the morning's frost bid them to let go.

"Family" as in "youngest son" is a thankfulness word. When we returned home, safe and sound, the cows were milked and surprises awaited us.

"Home" is for sure a thankfulness word, and sweet, too, like the sleep that night before Sunday dawned. "Church" and "sermons" and "faithfulness," these words mingle with handshakes and smiles, sunshine and songs, and blend into one word: thankfulness.

At Dad's house, for the carry-in meal to celebrate his 78th birthday, there was no chinaware but the spread was lovely, thanks to my artistic sister. The paper plates spelled out thanksgiving to match with the dark red table cloth. Sprigs of oats lay scattered at each place setting and even adorned the autumn center piece and the chocolate-layer cake. All my favorite colors spell out thankfulness.

Like attending the weddings of our nieces and nephews, meeting their new babies is delightful to me. It was a joy of the weekend sociality, on both sides of the family. Grandchildren interaction last week were glimpses of some in church and a short time to hold Baby Kari in my arms. On Sunday evening Bella's first little 'chat' with me on the phone was her new sound, that of trying to imitate a horse's feet on the road. I heard her little tongue click up and down.

Was it a first little chat, too, for a new couple, for a first walk together at the Saturday evening singing along Old Pike Road? And was it a first-time supper served for the youth group on Sunday evening by young parents along Hickory Bottom Road? Since thankfulness can be worn and spelled out in words, can it also be described as LOVE?