Simple Table Prayer

We pause, O God, to pray for those with no place to be, no meal to share, and no family to hug.
 
We pause to celebrate blessings and recognize new chapters of our lives.  
We pause to remember family stories, to give thanks for time together and for a table of abundance.
 
When tomorrow comes, give us opportunities to be a blessing to those that wander into our lives so that your light, your love and grace will be more present in the world through us.  Amen.

One of the things I get asked to do is pray.  Though all are capable, it’s kind of a minister’s thing.  I’ve prayed at hospital bedsides for the healing of life and death.  I’ve prayed at weddings, funerals, and other life ceremonies.  Sunday morning worship is filled with different kinds of prayer, styles really, based on the moment: invocation or pastoral prayer.  A few times I’ve offered prayer for people sitting next to me on the plane at the end of a conversation that begins, “What do you do for a living?”

I’ve ‘said the blessing’ for meals at many different tables: fellowship dinners, small gatherings and family gatherings.  It’s this last, family gatherings, that has been most difficult for me for a long time. Difficult? That quivering lip, voice altered trying not to weep emotion that bubbles up from somewhere just when I’m supposed to be doing the most natural thing that people in my vocation do.  I’m not entirely sure why the moment becomes awkward to manage.  Maybe the passage of time has worked on me in mysterious ways.  This year, though, I know it is a gratitude and a fear.  One of my parents had quadruple bypass during the summer.  It was unexpected.  It was a blessing that the blockages were discovered before a heart attack happened.  I am certain the emotion I experienced this day was that of gratitude that my parent was part of the circle today. I am certain the emotion I experienced was a fear of what I accept.  Death is part of the life cycle of mortals.  Grief, like joy, is experienced by all human beings in unexpected places and ways.  So, today I offered the prayer above as clearly as I could as my companion did her best to assure and distract.  My gratitude for her presence in my life can no longer be adequately articulated with the written or spoken word.