As I write, I am blessed with the gift of another gray, rainy day. The golden days of harvest have yielded their bounty, and now the earth lies in wait for another planting and budding season. There is quiet now, quiet to appreciate the fruits of another year’s planning and labor—if we allow ourselves to slow down with the earth.

As I slow down today, I imagine the first Thanksgiving in America. There were no parades and no holiday sales. It was a simple occasion of the pilgrims sharing a meal to thank the Native Americans for helping them to survive in the wilderness and to thank God for his Providence also. They didn’t just understand the meaning of simple abundance. They lived it. They were thankful for life itself.

For thousands of years, cultures throughout the world have recognized the grace that comes with giving thanks for simple abundance. Just to name one example, the Jewish people have long celebrated the autumnal festival, Succoth. It derives its name from the portable huts (sukkot) made from branches that Moses and the Israelites lived in while they wandered the desert for 40 years before reaching the Promised Land.

In spite of all their grumbling (even about the blandness of manna), the Israelites learned to give thanks. This year, in spite of all my grumbling about the state of the economy, I am also learning to give thanks. I have food on the table at a time when food pantries are being stretched to their limits. I have a roof over my head at a time when foreclosures are growing at an alarming rate. I have a career at a time when tens of thousands of Americans are losing their jobs. Even though our family budget suffers for it, we have healthcare insurance at a time when thousands more Americans can’t even afford a doctor’s visit.

This Thanksgiving, I’m learning to stop taking for granted the veritable food from heaven with which God has blessed me, and I’m striving to be more mindful of ways I can share my bounty with others less fortunate than I am. I still worry far too much for a Christian all too familiar with Jesus’ reassurance to be anxious for nothing. Yes, I’m still learning.

One of my most cherished possessions is a small glass cross, a gift from my spiritual director, etched with the words, "Each day is a gift from God. " It is up to me to open the gift and to cherish its beauty, recalling Mother Teresa’s words that poverty of the spirit is the worst poverty of all.