Our church is living into the theme "Gathering Gratitude" this fall. This theme has been accompanied by a wonderful image of two large hands holding a big bowl of things for which we are all grateful….a fish, a loaf of bread, a house, a book, a peace symbol, a cup of wine…..several other things fill the bowl to overflowing. And yet,our hope is that even more items will be added to the bowl as the weeks unfold. Our goal is to help each person take stock of all the the ways in which they are grateful. With our large, collective, community arms we can gather up all this gratitude and have it front and center in our lives.

As I was searching for some words, some poetry, to give hints of gratitude I came upon these words by poet Mary Oliver:"All afternoon I have been walking over the dunes, hurrying from one thick raft of the wrinkled, salt roses to another, leaning down close to their dark or pale petals, red as blood or white as snow. And now I am beginning to breathe slowly and evenly-the way a hunted animal breathes, finally, when it has galloped, and galloped-when it is wrung dry, but, at last, is far away, so the panic begins to drain from the chest, from the wonderful legs, and the exhausted mind. Oh sweetness pure and simple, may I join you? I lie down next to them, on the sand. But to tell about what happens next, truly I need help. Will somebody or something please start to sing?"

Much of our lives are lived at the 'hunted' pace, running from one thing to another, running from who knows what? So to come upon something that fills us with such joy, such gratitude, can cause our hearts to return to a normal beat, our breath to move in and out in a healthy, calming way. Such moments are pure gift, are certain sign of a Sacredness that moves just below the surface of our living. To see, to experience this sacred gift, we must keep our eyes and our hearts open with a certain purity of spirit.

And when those moments happen, as happened to me today when I saw the fragile green hummingbird flying with such joy over the red and orange dahlias in the garden, should at the very least be reason for a song. Don't you think? So much of our life begs to be a musical if only we are awake to it.

As I gather the gratitude of my life over these autumn days, I plan to do more singing. When I watch the red leaves that are already falling from the oak tree in our front yard, perhaps I will sing a blues number to match the torchy red of those works of natural art. As the days become shorter, the night skies brighter, I imagine a soaring love song might be in order. And as I see the morning fog on the warm water of the lakes and ponds hitting the cooler air, I might break into my own rendition of an aria. In it all I will be gathering gratitude.

And when I say goodbye to our youngest son this week as he heads off to college, I think I will choose a lullaby. I will choose it for him and I will choose it for me, praying with gratitude and for traveling mercies. In the rocking movement and the smooth tones of the songs that lulls us to sleep, I will listen for the Heartbeat that birthed us both and in it I hope to find comfort.