Great Spirit, giver of the heavens and the earth, of the skies and the seas, and all that is in them,
We come to you with gratitude for the plenitude of your gifts, too many to number, so many overlooked, just as many taken for granted. While we thank you for the beauty of the world, the birds of the air, and the bugs that play in the dirt, now we ask for a greater vision that comes, not only from earthly eyes, but from spiritual eyes, a vision that finds your fingerprint not only upon the mountain, but also upon the molehill, not only in the flash of lightning, but also in the soft light of the moon, not only in the giraffe, but also in the gnat.
Only with such eyes can we truly see beyond and beneath, above and under, near and far the many gifts that come from your hands, formed gently and finely, and placed into our hands with trust and with love. With our eyes opened at long last, we seek your gifts, in and around us, inside and outside us, loud and silent, each one giving us a glimpse of your goodness and your truth and your beauty.
Forgive the times we have expected the sun to rise when the night has gone, although it is you who have raised it in the skies for us. Forgive the times when we have accepted without second thought the air we breathe, although it is you who fills our world with wind and breeze. Forgive the times when we have neglected the waters in the seas or the streams in the forests, although it is you who provides for our thirst. Forgive our ingratitude.
You have measured out your gifts without measure. You give without end. You keep nothing for yourself. You are a river that never runs dry, flowing east and west, north and south, replenishing and refreshing us. Now, at last and at least, we thank you for these gifts seen and for those gifts still unseen by our weak eyes:
For the colors that you splash across the surface of the earth like a child with paintbrush and watercolor, for the yellow of the lemons and the pink of the rose, for the blue in the bluebonnet and the orange in the orange marmalade, for the red in jello and the purple in grapes, for the black in the night and the white in the day, for the green in the grass and the tan in the sand, for the brown in mud and the bronze in bells, for the charcoal in a Sunday suit and the lavender in a Sunday dress, for the copper in a jar of pennies and the chocolate in a cup of cocoa, for the khaki in grandpa’s slacks and the gray in grandma’s hair, for the kaleidoscope of colors in the rainbow and the collage of colors in a bag of jellybeans.
For the children entrusted to us, the girl with pigtails and the boy with freckles, for the little one in kindergarten who follows all the rules and the little one in kindergarten who follows none of the rules, for the youngster whose face always has a smile and the youngster whose face always has a frown, for the baby that sleeps through the night and the baby that never sleeps through the night, for the toddler that screams with delight and the toddler that screams with annoyance, for the infant who looks like daddy and the infant that looks like Nana, for the kid everybody likes and the kid nobody likes, for the tot who skips with perfect steps and the tot who stumbles with imperfect steps, for the child with the loud laugh and the child with the soft laugh.
For the people whom we take for granted, for the mail man who walks the sidewalks or drives the streets in summer heat and in winter cold, for the waste disposal guy who picks up our trash every Thursday, for the UPS woman in the brown uniform who carries the heavy box to our doorstep, for the cable guy who fixes our TV problem, for the maintenance people who sweep the streets and clear the snow, for the man in the white truck who reads the electric meter, for the utility crew that comes out at night to fix the fallen line, for the neighbor who keeps an eye on our dog while we’re away, and for the delivery guy who keeps the shelves stocked at Kroger’s.
For the nuts that fall from the trees or grow beneath the ground, for pistachios that help our heart and cashews that don’t help our heart, for peanuts that make a great PB & J sandwich and macadamia that make a good cookie, for pecans littering the lawn that make the best pie in the world and chestnuts roasting on an open fire that make for the best Christmas in the world, for almonds that are good in a candy bar and walnuts that that are just as good on a crunchy salad. And also for the nut that lives down the street and who keeps life interesting for the neighborhood.
For the friends in our life that keep us sane and keep us social, the friend who never says much but listens a lot, for the friend who doesn’t want children of her own but babysits whenever we ask, for the friend who hears what our ex-boyfriend says about us but won’t let him have the last word, for the friend who wants dessert, but won’t order it because we’re on a diet, for the friend whose heard all of dad’s jokes, but acts like it’s a new one he’s telling, for the friend who is terrified of doctors, but goes with us to our appointment, for the friend who can’t cook worth a darn, but makes chicken noodle soup for us when we’re sick, for the friend who needs his rest, but answers his phone because we need to talk.
For the beasts of the field and the ravens of the air, for all creatures great and small, for cats and dogs that give us company and delight, for the rats and mice who chase cheese as if it’s the grand prize in life, for blackbirds and blue birds and all birds of color who brighten our lives with song and with sound, for horses so majestic and muscular, for cattle who feed in the fields to give us meat and milk, for jungle animals such as the giraffe with a long neck and gators with a sharp mouth, for reindeer with antlers and Rottweilers with teeth, for furry rabbits and masked raccoons, for all sea creatures, whether dolphins or whales, sea turtles or sea horses, and for the lion and the lamb, who still strive to rest together.
For the fruits that make breakfast and snacks so much better, for the apple that keeps the doctor away, for the orange that keeps a cold away, for the banana that makes yogurt edible, for the grapes that can be made into a glass of wine that keeps the blues away, for the blueberries that turn into a great health drink, for the peach that is as sweet as a kiss, for the watermelon that drips down the face, for the cherry that tops a vanilla shake, for the lime that tops a margarita, for the lemon that adds to the tea, for the avocado that adds to the guacamole, for the pineapple that makes us think we’re in Hawaii, for the mangoes that make us think we’re in the Philippines, and for strawberries that make us think we’re in heaven.
For insects that fly high or dig deep, helping us, sometimes hating us, sometimes big enough for us to see, other times too small to spot, for the fire ants that teach us to form a team, but have a mean bite, for the honeybees that are nature’s sweetheart, but have a nasty sting, for the butterflies that are beauty queens, but won’t let you get near them, for the cockroaches that are ugly as sin, but can run fast as a track star, for the crickets that sing in the summer evenings, but can’t carry a tune, for the grasshoppers who have a full stomach, but still eat off of other people’s plates, for the houseflies that have a yard in which to search for sweets, but want to borrow a cup of sugar from us, for the cicadas that pierce the air with a high-pitch shrill, but turn mute when we try to find their hideout, for caterpillars that crawl on countless legs, but fly on two wings when grown up, for mosquitoes that show up at every party, but never know when to leave.
For flowers that bring beauty into the world and send a scent into the air to sweeten a good day or to soften a sour day. For the sunflower that unabashedly admires the sun overhead, watching its every movement, as if it were a rock star on stage. For the carnation, compact and courtly, always a part of a homecoming court. For the larkspur, tall and angular, with purple and pink plumes as hairpieces. For the poinsettia with wide red leaves that bring color to the Christmas season marooned in a colorless winter. For the rose, seductive as the sirens on the sea who once lured sailors to abandon ship, and now lure us to bend low and smell of their perfume. For the snapdragon, with small and delicate blooms, one of the few to stand up to winter’s blast and boom. For the daffodils, overeager and overachievers, ready to burst through the ground at the first hint of spring. For the hydrangeas, a cluster of light blues and light pinks, confident and condescending to less proud competitors.
Children and colors, beasts and bugs, fruits and flowers, all given to us by you, Great Spirit, the maker of all that lives and that breathes, the one who loves and sustains us, the giver of things seen and unseen, to whom we owe our thanks, from hearts humbled and heavy from our ingratitude, and to whom we beg your continued blessings upon all that walks or crawls upon the earth, for in you we find our joy and our peace, our beginning and our end.
Amen.
—Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 