Lately, K's been saying we need a little grace around here.
It is well known that we are vaguely stuck in the religious practice department.
Still, K would like it if our family shared a little moment before we ate and said something that focused us on our meal and our time together in an intentional way.
"I want to write a grace for us to say," he told me.
"Okay," I said.K describes his own decision making process as geological because it often happens as quickly as continents shift position through plate tectonics.
Tonight, The Mayor hastened things along.
"I know what we can say for grace!" he shouted.
"Great! What is it?" I asked.
"Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty I'm free at last!"A goofy smile spread crookedly across my face as I imagined our family saying this every night.
K brought our plates to the table and sat down just as I started singing those words in the style of the Blind Boys of Alabama.
The children jumped down from their chairs and did a soulful dance around the table.
K looked slightly confused.
When this new grace wound down, the children climbed back into their chairs and met their dinner plates.
"Thank GOD," my hungry Rooster Girl said eying her plate, "food at LAST!"