Grace

I went to private Catholic elementary school from third through sixth grade.

Before and after every lunch bell, we prayed.  Or rather, my teachers and perhaps some of my classmates prayed, but I just recited words.

I didn’t really get prayer as a kid – or for most of my time as an adult for that matter.

But, this morning, over sprouted-grain toast, a spread of raw honey, a pretty pile of sliced strawberries and Honeycrisp apples sprinkled with ribbons of mint and toasted pumpkin seeds, I felt compelled to be still.

Just be still.  Say thank-you.  And marvel for a moment in the delight of a pure and simple breakfast.

And, you know, it made it taste even better.

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