How do I put words to the quieting of a November afternoon? The greenbelt near our home has shrugged off the intensity of Summer and early Autumn, and is now enfolded in soft heather tones and textures. There is a murmuring of green here and there, but I mostly see an array of ochres, golds, and hazy lavenders. I am remembering the words of an old hymn, “This Is My Father’s World,” especially the line “He speaks to me everywhere.”

On this Sunday before Thanksgiving I am grateful for this subtle heart print of God’s love and provision. As the landscape whispers gentle peace to me, I am mindful of how much beauty, truth, and goodness there is. May our hearts be as full as our tummies, sharing gladness around the table, singing “Praise God from Whom all Blessings Flow.”