We were all gathered around the kitchen, pots and plates and dishes loaded with food beneath our noses. My dad was hosting his first-ever chili cook off, and he had just pronounced my uncle Fred the winner. On his notes, my dad had commented about Fred’s soup: “like Wendy’s,” of the fast-food chain fame.
“Let’s pray before we dig in,” my dad said, transitioning from competition to communal feast.
So all these people I love – some from the same blood, some even deeper than that – bowed heads and my dad began.
“O gracious Lord,” he said. “We are thankful for all these and all this. Amen.”
“Great prayer,” my younger sister, Sierra, said, referring to the brevity. The little ones were squirmy, the food smelled delicious, and a long prayer might have been difficult to sit through.
I am kicking off a November Thursday series on gratitude over at The High Calling this morning. Join me there?
Photo by slightly everything, via Flicker, used with permission under the Creative Commons License.