November 28, 2013

Grace and Thanksgiving Day

I think this painting hung in Aunt Liz and Uncle John's kitchen above their table. As a child I would sit at the table waiting on the grown-ups to tell us it was time to fill our plates, and I would stare endlessly at this photo. I thought of how disappointed I would be if someone gave me just soup and bread.

As I grew older, but not wiser, I would stare at this photo and wonder why the man even bothered praying because no one else was at the table with him. Who would know if he prayed or not?

It's been a while since I've been to Aunt Liz and Uncle John's home--they've moved; I've moved. We've seen each other and see each other regularly. I'm not sure what happened to that photo, if they still have it. I'm not sure where they got it or why they had it. But it's a photo that has set itself on my mind and my heart this year.

If someone gave me soup and bread, I'd be grateful. And I hope that when I have soup and bread, I can pass it on to the person who's been praying for it.

I don't necessarily bow my head publicly to give thanks, but I've learned to weave whispers of gratitude throughout my day ... even when, maybe especially when, no one is watching.

I hope The Daughters can have their own evolution of thankfulness. I hope they realize to be thankful for every event, every thing, every person, every grain of bread and every drop of soup. And I hope they always possess a thankful heart.
Those things and people and situations and ideas for which I am thankful ... it's never-ending.

The prayer I whisper that all people may have such things and people and situations in their lives ... it's never-ending as well.


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