Thursday, November 27, 2008

Words from Tuque: A Holden Thanksgiving

Early on this Thanksgiving morning, I was, in the usual way, placed upon my special handmade, none-like-it-in-all-the-world throne at a window in the dining hall of Holden Village. By “the usual way,” I mean that I was attended by a very public display of affection and many powerful, and also public, manifestations of the special place I have in the hearts of others, one in particular.

I do not take these outward demonstrations lightly. I know that in comparison with other rulers in this world, I am blessed beyond compare. For that, I am thankful.

From the vantage point of my throne in the window, and suitably robed and crowned, I have watched with my spidery little eyes as you have celebrated your own day of thanksgiving.

I have tracked the course of the sun as it rose through its magnificent new-every-day bonnet of orange and pink and made its way across the sky, at first up, up, up but always just below the ridge line of Buckskin until it broke free into the open sky to put this little village awash in its warming light. Only a short time later, it seemed to me, it disappeared behind Copper and moved on toward the west, taking its light, packed-up in a satchel, with it.

I have watched over the street, noted the comings and goings - up and down, across and back. There I have seen the raven beat its black wings against the cold air, the sound of the movement audible, in order to traverse the street from one end to the other, looking right, looking left, ascertaining that all is well in its chosen place of habitation.

I have witnessed all of your preparations for the late-afternoon feast, the setting of the tables, the stuffing of the squash, the trussing of the turkeys. I have heard all the chopping, the mixing, and the splashing. And the smells! AH! The smells. A fragrant potpourri to a royal nose!

And I have heard your voices. The voices of angels, they were, lifted together in songs of thanksgiving and praise. And I have overheard your talk at the table. I heard voices joined together in laughter, in the exchange of holiday greetings, and in the sharing of memories of past Thanksgivings.

Later in the evening, you would all return for the desserts you could never have eaten comfortably had they been served immediately after your dinner. There were pumpkin pies and apple pies with plenty of fresh whipped cream for a topping.

After your dessert but long before you left the dining hall, I had been taken from my handmade none-like-it-in-all-the-world throne and put to bed. As I fell asleep, I said my own payer of thanksgiving. As I did so, I remembered these lines from the worship service before the meal:

The Lord your God is bringing you into a good land,
a land with flowing streams,
with springs and underground waters welling up in valleys and hills,
a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates,
a land of olive trees and honey,
a land where you may eat bread without scarcity,
where you will lack nothing,
a land whose stones are iron and from whose hills you may mine copper.
You shall eat your fill
and bless the Lord your God for the good land that the Lord has given you.

Before I fell asleep, I gave thanks also.
For lighthouses.
For race cars,
For sideburns.

And most especially, I gave thanks for the one who loves me.
Completely.
Unconditionally.
Without thought for tomorrow.

Amen.

3 comments:

Debbie said...

This sounds wonderful. I am so glad Tuque could be there with his immediate and extended family. And to know that he looked out the window in anticipation of who is to come ....
Blessings to all ...

Gail said...

Great Wanda. I know Tuque enjoyed Thanksgiving as much as you did!

Unknown said...

Wanda, this is one of the finest pieces of writing you've done. While it is obviously well written, it catches the flavor of Holden, and all our love for Tuque and that special person who is so dear not only to Tuque, but to us all. Thanks for an exceptional contribution not only to this Blog, but to the literature on Holden out in cyberspace.
Larry