Wandering the woods today, an old Sunday School song quietly rose up from the shed leaves blanketing the forest floor . . .
“Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight“
If we’d all count our blessings as Americans, and not the issues that have polarized us, we’d delight in the ‘bury the ax’ harmony Pilgrims and Indians shared together at that first Thanksgiving together.
Let’s ‘leaf’ our differences at the door before sitting down together around the table today, and count blessings.
From our home to yours . . . HAPPY THANKSGIVING!