A Thanksgiving Day Prayer By Jacque E Gibbons

We call on the Name of the Lord,

God of the blood covenant with Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, and Jacob,

God of Israel,

God, the Great Spirit of my People of the Middle Waters,

God the Father of Jesus Christ through whom we inherit Your covenant with Abraham.

We thank You for Your many blessing.  Your gifts to us are without number and often beyond our understanding. 

Thank You for bringing us into the light of wisdom that leads us to happiness and understanding. 

Thank You for helping us to remember and care for those less fortunate than ourselves. 

Thank You for looking after those in harm’s way. 

Thank You for the opportunities and challenges of the year ahead. 

Thank You for giving us the courage to face our failures.

Thank You for helping us to remain humble when we succeed.

Thank You for our family, especially the children of the new generation, and for our friends, for it is through all them that we really begin to understand God’s love. 

Finally, thank You for giving us this day together.

Amen.

submitted by Jacque E. Gibbons on 11/21/2017  (Jack Gibbons passed away April 15, 2022 )

Love, Bubba by Rosewalk

Love, Bubba

As young children, my brother and I played together in all the ways siblings close in age do. We played in the mud, pumped our legs to swing ourselves, read books, sang songs, pretended we were Batman and Robin. I was bigger, so I was Batman (of course!).

In our teens and twenties, we grew apart, focused on schooling, relationships, and careers, but we started growing closer again in our 30s, 40s, and 50s. We were caring for aging parents, and this care required frequent emails and phone calls, as well as frequent visits. Though much of this time was painful, long hours spent by nursing home beds provided the chance to reminisce, too. Nobody knows you like your siblings do.

Our parents are both dead now, but my brother and I are still in regular contact with each other. These days, he’s between jobs, and I’m now a caregiver for my post-stroke husband. We have anxious moments and need to blow off steam. A recent visit found us reminiscing about our younger sister: as a three-year-old, she had a spot-on imitation of Howard Cosell—“speaking of sports.” We enjoy sharing these memories.

A late-talker, my brother had trouble pronouncing my name. His closest approximation was "Bubba," and, as a child, I found this incorrect pronunciation annoying. These days, however,  I gladly answer to "Bubba."

-- submitted by Elder RoseWalk

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"Apples in a Pot" poem by Prairietalk

I met a woman

who had brain tumors

and after doctors

removed them

she couldn’t focus enough

to read.

Since then

every morning

she paints the sunrise.

“Do they all look different?”

I asked her.

“To me they do,”

she said

though admitted that when she

hung them in a gallery

people wondered,
“Why so many pictures of

the same thing?”

My mother tamed robins,

calling them to her porch,

feeding them what was left

of her breakfast toast.

She had a special one

and mentioned him each day.

“How do you know it’s the same one?”

I asked.

“I just know,”

she said.

Before her 96^th birthday

I asked her what she wanted.

“I don’t need anything,”

she replied.

“And, besides, I have a robin.”

Today I am peeling apples

picked from a tree

belonging to a friend’s mother.

Each one is different

in shape

in size

in the placement of

the worm holes.

They are going in a pot of water

to be boiled,

sugar and cinnamon added

to make applesauce.

I would like to share some with the woman

who does sunrises.

Maybe I will buy one of her paintings

and when I see it

framed on my wall

I will think about

sunrises

and robins

and apples in a pot.

To see more of Prairietalk's art and writing visit annlcarter.com

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