Holy One, we breathe deep
on this late autumn morning,
awake to your presence.
You are curator of creations bounty,
You are custodian of the cloudless sky’
You are shaper of starlight,
You are the potter and we are the clay,
You breathe life into dust,
You fell in love with earth so deeply ,
that all we see and know and experience,
proclaims your glory.
Form us.
Mold us.
Shape us.
Nurture every splendor that you’ve made.
In this harvest season,
our gratitude bends toward the table abundant.
For the hot oven,
the casserole dish,
the colander,
spatula and butter knife
laboring alongside the hands of those we love.
For the flour, sugar and salt
that form sweet treats we call heavenly:
religious language the only way
we know to describe
the food that blesses our tables.
Let there be a storm of song and psalm
for the farmer who planted the seeds,
the farm worker who gathered the crops,
the packers who prepared it for journey,
the truck drivers who delivered the food,
the grocer who tended the shelves.
Let gratitude be our shield and safeguard,
a murmur of devotion.
Thank you, thank you, thank you God.
Bend us, in a new way, toward gratitude, appreciation, recognition of the small and towering gift of life.
Shield us from greed.
Stand us upright in a posture of joyful thanks.
For this day, this season this moment,
your presence shimmers
even when all else is hushed and muted.
We pray for the fierce love of those who
are just beyond the veil,
gone but not forgotten,
saints of light who guide the way.
For the weight of grief.
For those lost and unsettled
in the fog of sorrow.
For the places where life is just fitful enough,
just unresolved enough,
just enough in limbo
that praise is hard to grasp,
where gratitude collapses
under the weight of unresolved heartache.
When we break bread in this place,
all this unfolds and more.
Let your good gaze
keep track of our hidden sorrows
and the world’s deepest need.
Your hawk eye looks after
the least, the lost, the lonely,
the refugee, the orphan, the war-widowed.
And, because of this,
you gathered your disciples at the table.
You said to them that this is the feast of love.
You promised a new path.
A transformation.
A turning.
And so, we ask that your spirit
be poured out upon this table of love.
May this bread and cup
be for us a revival of hope
and a renewal of courage as we encounter your presence among the ordinary gifts of life. Through your grace, be with us. And hear us as we pray together the prayer Jesus taught us: Our father…. Amen.