the world so sweet

I was a child in another age. I am not so foolish to think it was all, by default, a better time, but that it was less complicated is a simple fact. 

me

In grade school, we stood each morning - hands over hearts - faced the front of the room, and solemnly pledged our allegiance to flag and country. 

We learned to read with Dick and Jane (and Mother, Father, and Sally, and Spot and Puff), practiced our penmanship in Big Chief notebooks, and played tether-ball, four-square, kickball, or jumped rope during morning and afternoon recess. 

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At lunchtime, we all lined up with our lunch-boxes or lunch money, and just before we walked through the door to file down the hall to the cafeteria, we sang, together, this song of gratitude:

Thank you for the world so sweet,

Thank you for the food we eat. 

Thank you for the birds that sing,

Thank you God for everything.

I welcomed any excuse to sing, and so would have loved this daily ritual for that alone. But I also loved the idea of the world so sweet, and the notion that there was so much to be thankful for that the only way to encompass it all was say thank you for everything. Ev-'ry-thing.


Since I wasn't raised in a church my idea of God was somewhat nebulous, but I was a smart little girl, and so deduced that God was responsible for the goodness of everything, and because I was also a polite and grateful little girl, I was happy to say Thank you every day.

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In many ways I haven't changed a bit.

So, again I say, from the bottom of my heart:

Thank you for the world so sweet,

Thank you for the food we eat. 

Thank you for the birds that sing,

Thank you God for everything.

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