The Thanksgiving Sunflower

I was hoping I’d find some sunflowers to bring into our home for Thanksgiving – there’s something so cheery and wholesome about sunflowers – they instantly light up a room with their sunshiney faces. But, alas, there were no sunflowers to be found in any of the local supermarkets, and my last sunflowers had died off in the freeze a week ago.

Or so I thought…

A few weeks ago I’d leaned a sunflower stalk that had blown down in the wind against the corner of our house. I’d clipped off the sunflowers that were in bloom and put them in a vase in the breakfast nook – but had tossed the flowers out a week ago when they died.

So today, after I gave up on finding sunflowers in a store, I was wandering around the yard looking for something – anything – that might still be flowering that I could bring into the house for Thanksgiving. And as I walked past the sunflower stalk I’d leaned against the house weeks ago I saw there was one little sunflower beaming its happy little face up at me!

It’s amazing how much joy it gave me to find that little sunflower waiting for me right there – at the corner of our house! She’s now shining her golden beauty from the windowsill in my kitchen.

I got a sunflower for Thanksgiving, after all!
glowing sunflower 3 this one

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Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Better than Christmas.
Better than Easter. Better than Halloween.
It’s pies made from berries I picked myself, and golden
squash Scott grew in the garden, and healthy food smells
filling the kitchen. It’s family and friends and love
and laughter over old memories and memories in-the-
making. It’s Aunt Junie’s china and Aunt Elsie’s teacups
out of Grandma’s old maple china cabinet. It’s the sons
playing music on the piano I learned to play on fifty years
ago. It’s improv in the living room, and board games
on the dining room table after the food’s been cleared.
It’s wearing Moz’s sweater and feeling her arms around me
and Dad watching football while he eats his pie
with ice cream on top. It’s a fire in the woodstove and a cozy
room filled with amber light as it grows dark and cold outside.
It’s being filled up with gratitude so rich I want to cry
with the joy of it.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell

Heaven at the Colophon Cafe

Tucked into a little table for one
in a corner of the Colophon
Cafe after a brisk walk along
the windy wave-tossed bay –
I’m feeling mellow and at peaceĀ 
with life. It has been a lovely day.
The human-song falls and increases
in waves around me – soft exchanges,
and loud rolling laughter, female
and male blended together – ranges
from bass to soprano dance and sail
into my ears and gently tickle my soul.
In front of me a pot of steaming green tea,
African peanut soup, a soft, warm roll,
and slices of cheddar and Swiss cheese.
It is a moment of perfection.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell

 

A Simple and Unremarkable Perfection

It’s a miracle of perfection.
I am warm and fed and I can hear
my loved one tapping the keys on his laptop
and clearing his throat
near me
I have chamomile tea with cream and a chunk of
sourdough bread and the wind is moving
the rain-splattered screen on the window
and making the lights behind it look like they’re dancing
I feel no pain or fear
I know I’m completely safe
and I imagine coming through some terrible danger
and finding myself in this room
and what a miracle that would seem to be
and how much I’d appreciate the simple unremarkable
perfection of it
and I am filled with gratitude.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(excerpt from A Poem Lives on My Windowsill)

A_Poem_Lives_On_My_W_Cover_for_Kindle

Not Distance Nor Time Nor Death

I heard the news today and thought how unfair life is –
and, for a moment, I didn’t want to be part of it, anymore.
And then, in the next moment, I was filled with gratitude
for life – gratitude that I’ve been given the opportunity
to know you here – to experience your beauty and
kindness and love. Nothing can take you from us –
not distance nor time nor death. Your love will live on.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell

poem for Rachael

 

Creature of Joy

choose-joy-4

Happiness is spiritual, born of Truth and Love. It is unselfish; therefore it cannot exist alone, but requires all mankind to share it.
– Mary Baker Eddy

…joy cannot be turned into sorrow, for sorrow is not the master of joy…
– Mary Baker Eddy