Thanksgiving roses…
The sky is grey. There is (at last) an autumnal chill in the air. Trees in the backyard have shed all their leaves and the lines of trunk and limb are more clearly defined in the waning light.
And I look out the windows and see a dozen delicate pink roses, in bud and full flower. What are you doing here, I want to say. The summer is long gone - the summer, when you were just one of the many flowers in bloom. Now you stand alone, flowering out of time. Has climate change confused you?
Perhaps I should be worried - these roses may be akin to the canary in the mine shaft.
Instead, though, I grab my clippers and go on a rescue mission, gathering the fragile blooms. Just in case there is a chilling frost - they will fare better in a vase in my living room, their scent intoxicating and teasing as I walk past.
There they sit as a reminder of life’s beauty, fragility and tenacity. What better remembrance at this Thanksgiving time!
May your holiday gatherings give rise to a full recounting of life’s free and complimentary blessings, even in the shadow of troubling, fearful or sorrowing times.

two days later...

I preached this past Sunday on voting and I stressed how this is a powerful personal and corporate act, a true sign of patriotism... especially when you cast your vote in a sea of uncertainty, in a culture where you feel alienated or a society where your voice has felt weaker and weaker as the years have gone by. And now that “the electorate has spoken”, we do well to reflect back and think about what it is we have said.
For “winning” is not enough. Savor the moment, yes. And then roll up your sleeves. Here’s a riff on some words of activist Dorothy Day (as printed in our UU hymnal):
“No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless.” And no one has a right to sit down and feel smug and contented. “There’s too much work to do.”
--Zsuzsa