Cleaning Up: My Postprandial Grace
My earlier orientation toward thankfulness and gratitude hasn't changed, only the way in which I express them. Frequent little toasts, "To you," "To us," "To the beautiful evening," "To your big day tomorrow," "To the garden and the gardener," are minor prayers of sorts, linking my simple thoughts, appreciations and thankful awarenesses to the grander concepts of gratitude, abundance and community. But it is when I'm at my kitchen sink where the expression of my thankfulness takes a more intimate turn.
During these times my hopes silently join in again with those of our companions for health (our own and those we love,) prosperity, and acceptance. I remember and swallow up more of the lingering good medicine of our earlier laughter. I'm grateful that our table contains far more than enough to share. And, in all reality, I'm often blessed by the fact that our friends and family most often come 30, 40 or 90 miles to our countryside home to share a meal.
All alone, these private check-ins have a way of pointing out my earlier angry short-sightedness and the truth that things turned out pretty great after all, even far greater than I had imagined. My former crossness melts away to humility.
Wine for Each Course = A Happy Heart and Lots of Glasses