When I was a youngster we were required, sternly, to say grace at the table. It was memorized prayer said as quickly as possible to get it over with. My siblings and I were given the task randomly and I never knew when my turn would be. Being the youngest my prayers were unpolished and often the object of sniggering around the table as my brother and sisters jabbed each other in the ribs. I also dared not close my eyes because some tasty morsel might disappear from my plate.
Today (many years since that time) as I prepared a salad and sat down to eat, I reflected on how different this spiritual practice is for me now. I looked at the exquisite display of beauty and bounty in my bowl; a symphony of color and texture.
Pausing a moment, I took it all in with the eyes of wonder. What a miracle is this salad!
I opened my heart and spoke aloud - giving thanks for the earth and the sun and the rain that all co-operated to bring forth each vegetable from seed. I thought of each person that participated in this divine orchestration - the farmers, the laborers, the market and on and on. I felt the immensity of this miracle that is my salad - it contains captured sunlight, energy for my body that is blessed. As I take this blessing into my body the energy of all creation is now available for my use. I dedicated this humble/glorious meal to the highest and best use in my being here and now.