We need to compose our lives in such a way that we both give and receive, learning to do both with grace, seeing both as parts of a single pattern rather than as antithetical alternatives.
Mary Catherine Bateson
Pause for a moment, put down the grocery and to-do list, and raise your hand if you’re not quite ready to transition into the “spirit of the season.” It seems we are nudged by retailers, school schedules, and well-meaning fundraisers to be in the holiday mindset long before we feel ready or willing. Is there ever a moment when someone isn’t tugging on our heart strings, purse strings, and our apron strings, too?
If you’re tempted this Thanksgiving to hide in your pantry and devour a party-for-one turkey in hopes that a tryptophan overdose will cure holiday anxiety, then these few words are for you. Just as they are for me.
May the peace of the Lord be with you.
Be tender with yourself. Pause for a breath, a holy reprieve from all that consumes you or all that you are consuming. Ready your heart to connect with your kids, relatives, and others. We can do this as we face the Thanksgiving table in a way that many worshippers prepare to approach the Lord’s Table.
You. Me. We will pass the peace.
May the peace of the Lord be with you.
Response: And also with you.
In many church services, this simple and beautiful practice reconciles fragile human to fragile human before they partake in communion. Before they remember together the Last Supper when Jesus modeled a heart of eucharistia—thankfulness, gratitude. And when he called us all to the spiritual Thanksgiving table.
Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins (Matthew 26: 26-28 NIV)
Wherever you will be in the days ahead, share the peace of the Lord with every flawed, lovely, anxious, generous child of God. Whisper “may the peace of the Lord be with you” as you clean up (again!) after the child who has volunteered to “help” in the kitchen. Pass the peace and the cornbread stuffing to your Aunt Millie. Think it as you greet the mini-mart cashier who thankfully sells your husband’s favorite whipped cream.
The Spirit of the season is a mysterious thing. Reciprocation isn’t necessary for this to be a full experience of giving and receiving. (Though you might find yourself speaking this blessing aloud to your family. Just think what that could do!) The moment you allow your life to be a prayer for peace, you receive the grace of an open heart. You dwell fully in a holy space between this moment and the next. You’re granted compassion for the hurting stranger. A ripple of change begins.
When we welcome this pattern of prayer in our lives, peace is set in motion within and without.
This Thanksgiving…pass the Lord’s abundant peace.
Come to the table.
And then pass it again.
Oh, how our heartbroken world, family, and friends need second helpings.
Your friend,
Hope
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Hope Lyda is the author of Life as a Prayer, One Minute with Jesus for Women, and the popular One-Minute Prayers for Women.
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