In regard to the ‘thanks’ in Thanksgiving Day: I would be quite willing/happy to consistently sincerely thank God with every meal, if everyone on Earth — and not just a portion of the planet’s populace — had enough clean, safe drinking water and nutritional food to maintain a normal, healthy daily life. And I genuinely would be pray-fully ‘thankful’ if every couple’s child would survive their serious illness rather than just a small portion of such sick children.

[On the other hand, what makes so many of us believe that collective humanity should be able to enjoy the pleasures of free will, but cry out for and expect divine mercy and rescue when our free will ruins our figurative good day — i.e. that we should have our cake and eat it, too?]

I realize it’s still socially awkward to question one of historical humanity’s largest and most sacrosanct institutions — prayer, and perhaps even saying heartfelt thanks to an omnipotent/omniscient deity. But I, a big fan of Christ’s unmistakable miracles and fundamental message, know I’m far from being alone in having a problem with thanking God for relative trivialities, such as a big-money-making professional sports-team’s win, especially with hunger regularly happening internationally.

Lastly, is it just me, or is there some truly unfortunate, bitter irony in holding faith and hope in prayer when unanswered prayer results in an increase in skeptical atheism and/or agnosticism? … Nevertheless, the following poem is for the growing number of people for whom there’s nothing to be thankful for on Thanksgiving Day, or any other day of the year.

.

Just pass me the holiday turkey, peas

and the delicious stuffing flanked

by buttered potatoes with gravy

since I’ve said grace with plenty ease

for the good food received I’ve thanked

my Maker who’s found me worthy.

It seems that unlike the many of those

in the unlucky Third World nation

I’ve been found by God deserving

to not have to endure the awful woes

and the stomach wrenching starvation

suffered by them with no dinner serving.

Therefor hand over to me the corn

the cranberry sauce, fresh baked bread

since for my grub I’ve praised the Lord

yet I need not hear about those born

whose meal I’ve been granted instead

as they receive naught of the grand hoard.