Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Warm Hands On Me When I Pray
“A table full of food and with people all around,
Quiet when my mom prays.
The Thanksgiving food and mom’s perfume.
The warm hands on me when we pray.
We will always give thanks at Thanksgiving.”
I came across this poem the other day. It was written by fourth grader named Chantel from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Her poem was posted, along with some by her fellow students, as a class project. Her poem reminded me that I often forget to live with a spirit of Thanksgiving for the simple things of life -- things like “a table full of food” and “warm hands on me when we pray.”
Perhaps being thankful for such things is the main challenge facing all of us living in our super-heated, consumer-oriented society. Our focus seems to be on acquiring SUV’s and RV’s, large screen TV’s or any number of other things advertisers tell us we need in order to be happy. That makes it difficult to be thankful for small things that make life dear.
Most of us will spend the upcoming Thanksgiving Day basking in the glow of family love. Even those who have passed on, whether at the end of a full life or cut off too soon, are wrapped safe in our hearts. We rejoice in the memories of good times and know that those who truly love can never be truly separated.
Many of us are snug in warm homes. Our tables abound with food. We may not be able to reach right into our pantry for a certain snack item we’re hankering for, but few of us suffer from Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard syndrome.
Most of all, we should remember that the One who loves and cares for us more than we know is always watching over us. There may be times when we wonder where God is – those times we are hurting or distressed. But the fact is, God is there, beside us, behind us, before us, even when we do not sense that presence. Perhaps that presence goes unnoticed because it comes wrapped in such a simple, human thing as “warm hands on me when we pray.”