by Mary Clifford Morrell
As I was changing the flag that hangs on our front porch, a little voice from across the street exclaimed, “I love your turkey!” I smiled and waved to my neighbor’s young daughter. She doesn’t realize my faithfulness to putting up a new flag weekly, always seasonal or holy day themed, stems from her dad’s revelation, a few years ago, that she looks for and talks about the various flags. Her favorite is the cartoonish parrot that goes up at some point in the summer. I’m sensing a fondness for birds. With Thanksgiving around the corner, and Advent and Christmas not far behind, there will be no dearth of flags in the coming months, signaling the seasons and what we hold dear as a family. Certainly, there is great meaning in the seasons soon upon us, meaning that is deeper than a nod from a fluttering flag. Though not a religious holiday, I’ve always felt Thanksgiving was the perfect precursor to Advent and Christmas. It struck me deeply one year when our choir rehearsed “Where Your Treasure Is,” based on the Luke 12:34, “Where your treasure is, there also will be your heart.” It had been a difficult year, and I struggled with the thoughts of the holidays ahead, and the prospect of setting a Thanksgiving table when I was losing a sense of gratitude. Then we sang, “Where your treasure is, there your heart shall be, all that you possess shall never set you free; seek the things that last, come and learn from me; where your treasure is your heart shall be.” Of course, I choked back tears, but I also remembered something I learned as a teacher of religion. The Hebrew term for gratitude is hakarat hatov, which means, literally, "recognizing the good." I was reminded that practicing gratitude means recognizing the good that is already ours, and by allowing gratitude to fill our hearts, we make it possible for any moment to be a time of thanksgiving. A holiday like Thanksgiving, built on gratitude, recognizing the good and the blessings that are ours despite any struggle, or perhaps because of it, is a perfect time to focus on where our true treasure lies—a perfect beginning for Advent, a time of waiting and reflection on the eternal good that became ours on the first Christmas. This year, let us include “thank you,” among our prayers during the upcoming holy seasons. May we pray it often and sincerely, and be prepared for the transformation.
Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.
by Mary Clifford Morrell
I’ll admit, I appreciate a good quote, one that stops me in my thinking for a moment and then makes me think more. Good quotes say a lot in a few words, kind of like a good writer.
One of my favorites is attributed to Bernard Baruch, early 20th century financier and political advisor: “Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton asked why.”
There you have summed up in nine words the value of curiosity. I’ve wondered whether Isaac Newton was one of those children who were forever asking why.
I think most families have at least one. But given his quiet, reflective nature he may not have asked the question outright but certainly he mulled it ‘round in his head over all things he observed until one day he observed an apple fall from a tree and asked himself why it fell straight to the ground.
The theory of gravity was proposed.
As a child, Newton was influenced by his natural surroundings and his budding skills at construction and using the tools of the trade. Inspired by both and coupled with a lifetime of observation and experimentation, Newton’s curiosity propelled him to change the world around him.
We cannot expect all our children to become an Isaac Newton, but they each have their own creativity and questions and missions in life. Our natural surroundings can serve as a tool in helping us nurture all those parts of our children, by interaction and encouraging their observations and questions.
There is an inherent beauty and mystery in nature that attracts children, even if they can’t put it in words, except to ask why. Certainly, we’ve seen a child look under a rock and “oooh” and “aaah” over scurrying bugs, and ask the questions, “Why do they live under rocks? Where is their home? Why do they look like that? Why do we need bugs?”
Or the child who is fascinated by a microscope, or telescope, who has more why questions about stars in the sky than most of us could answer. Or the child like my granddaughter who, at age nine, has already drawn out her plans for an environmentally sound aquarium—for mermaids.
When my family drove across country from New Jersey to Montana, one of our most memorable experiences was laying on the ground of our campsite and looking up at the sky which was full to the brim with stars, something we never see in our home skies. The ones who were most in awe were the kids—youngsters and teenagers, alike.
In those moments I heard the words of one of my favorite hymns:
For the beauty of the earth, For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth Over and around us lies—
For the wonder of each hour, Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flow’r,
Sun and moon, and stars of light—
Refrain: Lord of all, to Thee we raise, This our hymn of grateful praise.
Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.