Archive | July 28, 2014

A Lughnassad Prayer

I give thanks

I give thanks for my friends that have kept me going in dark times

I give thanks for the love I have been given

I give thanks for the family I have left

I give thanks for the family I was born into and what they taught me

I give thanks that I have the right to worship the goddesses and gods who call me

I give thanks that I can worship as I choose to do

I give thanks for the Earth that gives nourishment to me

I give thanks for the Air I breathe

I give thanks for clean Water to drink in a drought filled world

I give thanks for the Fire in my head and in my heart

I thank the animals who give their spirits to be food

I give thanks for the plants and seeds who give their spirits also

I give thanks for hands to hold and hearts to love

I give thanks for eyes that can see and ears that can hear

I give thanks for an August morning to give thanks in and

I give thanks for the ability to see and say and sing my thanks.

I give thanks.

We give thanks with grace

Lughnassad/Lammastide is the first thanksgiving in our calendar. It was the first of the harvests when people of the earth knew if the harvest yield would be enough to get them through the winter. Pagans celebrate it as our thanksgiving. Our coven has often had a barbeque and made bread together for our celebration.

Anyone who knows me from my camp days knows I used to travel with my songbooks which grew to many volumes over the years, typewritten and hand written by me and covered in stickers appropriate to the song on the page. Thousands of songs, rounds and graces collected from camps, campouts wherever Girl Scouts and camp counselors get together and sing. My favourite types of songs have always been graces and rounds.

I have many graces and many memories of singing them in dining halls and around campfires, wherever we needed to give thanks for the food and the good in our lives. I have one favourite grace and it’s not a Girl Scout grace. It’s the first grace I ever learned as a child. Every year the big choir at church went on retreat with all their families. The choir members learned the music for the entire year at least to read through once and the families spent their days at the beach or playing games or doing whatever someone had dreamed up to keep us kids busy like highjacking us baby choir members into a choir for the Sunday chapel service we had together.

But every meal together started with this grace that someone had re-written the words to for the choir. I remember as a five year old being handed my very own card with the words so I could sing with all the big grown up choir members. I remember the sound of it echoing through the Dining Hall and rising and swirling around, a glorious joyful noise.

The only time I get to sing grace now is our annual camp reunion that I’ll get to go to in a few weeks.

I will give thanks for the good in my life…