Thanksgiving: A reflection on gratitude for my country

As every American around the globe focuses on their Thanksgiving meal preparation, I sit content and full. There is no rushing to gather ingredients; nor conducting the calculations of how much stuffing is needed to feed twelve; how long to cook the bird; or how many pies to bake. Our family celebrated the great feast a week early, when more family members could be present. The food was just as delicious, the sentiments still true, and the joy at being together was not diminished because we did not celebrate on the specific date on the calendar.

As an American who has lived a great deal of my adult life abroad, Thanksgiving came to represent a way for me to host my cultural traditions within whatever adopted home I happened to be living: Norway, Azerbaijan, or Australia. Early on there were challenges to finding a turkey, or yams, or a pumpkin. Shopping would have to be planned out with care and attention to details. (My father-in-law was once enlisted to bring a turkey back from a business trip, which was a bit more than he bargained for.) And some years, I learned to make do with what was available in the local markets. The holiday, and the hosting, brought a multitude of nationalities to our table and joined us in offering a litany of thanks.

In 1992, while living in Trondheim, I discovered a poem in a small poetry book I had brought with me when we moved to Norway in 1990. It was entitled, "America for Me," written in 1909 by Henry Van Dyke. This poem spoke to feelings I did not know I had about my homeland--yes, it induced some patriotism, but more than anything, it prompted from me immense gratitude.

America for Me

 'TIS fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down 
    Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, 
    To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,— 
    But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. 

           So it's home again, and home again, America for me! 
           My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be, 
           In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, 
           Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars! 

    Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; 
    And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; 
    And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; 
    But when it comes to living there is no place like home. 

    I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled; 
    I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled; 
    But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day 
    In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way! 

    I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: 
    The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. 
    But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,— 
    We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. 

           Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! 
           I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, 
           To the bléssed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars, 
           Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars

This poem has become my Thanksgiving poem--the poem and the holiday, conjoined in my heart when I recognized that I revered and respected my country--even with it's obvious imperfections and flaws. This country of mine, holds the landscape of my childhood with its expansive open meadows and the snow peaked Rockies. Even this year, while in the States, I still read aloud the poem and found myself overwhelmed with gratitude.

Our present day political divisiveness is unfortunate and needs to heal--and GRATITUDE is both healing and inclusive. It needs no politics or religions. It simply requires awareness and humility to know what has brought you ease, or joy, or relief, or any other numerous aspects of your life that is ultimately made better and brighter because you are part of a community, comprised of family, or friends, or animals, or nature.

We can easily become grateful when something is gone or missing; something we took for granted. It took me living abroad to recognize the value of my own country, for example. But gratitude can grow and flow without having to loose something. It takes an attitude and a presence to know what is blessing you in your life. And Thanksgiving gives us that opportunity to humbly praise any aspect of our life. 

I lift up the swell of gratitude in my heart to all my friends and family, and to my clients, and to those who have attended my presentations and lectures this year--may you be well, safe and full of the sweet and savory of life. And to the “western woodlands” that Henry Van Dyke invokes in his poem, thank you for being a presence I carry with me where ever I call home.

with loving kindness,
Signe