” Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”
~Mother Teresa

Early in the week I heard a program on the radio about preparations for Thanksgiving meals. This iconic meal and its celebration is always a fascinating one for me. The ways in which people have such passion about what dishes ‘must’ be present for it to be Thanksgiving always makes me chuckle. For most it is the turkey, of course, except for my vegetarian friends who avert their eyes from the finely browned bird as it makes it entrance as the star of the show. For others it is the sweet potatoes, marshmallowed or otherwise, the mashed whites, or green bean casserole. I learned long ago not to even try to understand the various forms of corn puddings. Oysters? Bread crumbs? Round pan or square?

And this doesn’t even touch the wide range of dessert options. Of course in most homes pumpkin pie reigns supreme. But I have been with one for whom Thanksgiving is not complete without banana pudding ringed with vanilla wafers. Usually apple pie or mince meat or pecan also figures into that great Thanksgiving culinary portrait as well.

However the radio program was focusing on the humble cranberry. Being a lover of this little, tart fruit, I was all ears. The person being interviewed had been described as a ‘cranberry expert’. I let that rest within me for awhile. How does one become a cranberry expert? I understood his unique gift when he spoke the phrase that has been rolling around in my brain over the last few days. “Simply put, the cranberry is platonically beautiful.”

Well. Now there is a statement! Even this lover of cranberries will never see the fall fruit of the bog in the same way ever again. Platonically beautiful. I imagined the bright redness, the tart flavor upon my tongue. I remembered the way the berries make a popping sound in a pan filled with just enough water to cook them down to a sauce waiting for sugar. I thought of the few times I have seen them in their natural habitat in parts of Wisconsin as they formed a reddish floating film in the their watery home. Yes, platonically beautiful.

All week I have imagined what it might be like if we spoke with such respect and love and poetics about other parts of our amazing Creation. “Look at that squirrel. Isn’t it brilliantly furry?” “I just saw an earthworm, so shimmeringly slim.” ” Here comes the snow again. I love its delicate,lacey splendor.”

How we describe things to ourselves and others makes a difference. The words we use to paint a picture of how something or someone moves in the world has a power and energy that goes beyond us in ways we have no control over. It seems important to choose our words wisely, to not fling them into the world without forethought. Every day I meet people who have been inadequately or unfairly named or described and it has changed them, often harmed them. Many work diligently to overcome descriptions that have stuck, that have narrowed their lives. Perhaps you know someone like this. Perhaps it is true of you.

But somewhere, someone whose name I can’t remember, described a small, red, fruit as platonically beautiful and tomorrow I will enjoy this Thanksgiving staple in a new way. I will bask in its beauty and appreciate it with new eyes, a softer heart. Someone gave it new value, raised it to its original blessing as the art of the world it is.

As I give thanks, I will try to remember all those who are not as privileged as I am and pray God’s love and care upon them. I will remember that this One who breathed us all into being would use phrases much as the cranberry expert did and just as lofty to describe each and every part of this blessed earth. Human. Creature. Plant. All of it.

And I will be filled with gratitude and humility.