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.
Sometimes I eat without taking a moment to be thankful for what is on my table. I forget the farmers who grew the crops and the animals that were raised to be food on my plate. I overlook the work of grocers and clerks, cooks and truck drivers. I forget the millions who won’t eat, or won’t eat enough, today. I eat so quickly that I don’t really enjoy the spices and flavors. I don’t look at the others sitting around the table, and I half listen to their tales of the day. I am blind to the candlelight that dances among the serving dishes. Forgive me for my ignorance and arrogance.
But tonight, I see my sons and hear what happened in Latin class and Model UN. I pick up my napkin and give thanks for Craig and Patti, its givers. I see the roasted vegetables grown by Karen and the Autumn leaf candle holder glowing at the table’s center. My husband pours the wine and we talk about nothing in particular. Outside the darkness grows and the owls cry. From this warm and abundant place, set in this marvelous corner of creation, I am thinkful and thankful.