Dearest Father, Father whose love, and whose strength, are unchanging, in whose eyes we too are unchanging, still your beloved children, however our fleshly garment may soil and wear … Holy Father, I have rehearsed this prayer in my mind a thousand times, this prayer of gratitude and rejoicing, as I waited for an evening like this one.  With my youngest daughter Glory, and my dear prodigal son Jack who’s finally come home.  I always knew the time would come.  And now I find that words fail me.  They do.  Because while I was waiting I got old.  I don’t remember those prayers now, but I remember the joy they gave me at the time, which the confidence that someday I would say one or another of them here at this table.  If I lived.  I thought my good wife might be here too.  We do miss her.  Well, I thank you for that joy, which helped through hard times.  It helped very much.  But when I think what it is that brings us to our Father,it might be grief or sickness — trouble of some sort.  Weariness.  And then there we are, and it’s a good thing at such times to know we have a Father, whose joy it is to welcome us home.  It really is.  Still, humanly speaking, there is that trouble, that sorrow, and a Father has to be aware of it.  He can’t help it.  So there is a sadness even in great blessing, which can be a hard thing to understand.  Lord, put the veil of time and sorrow aside for us.  Restore us to those we love.  And restore the ones we love to us.  We do long for them … Jack said softly: “Amen.”  (”Home” by Marilynne Robinson)

Perhaps it’s a good thing that grace before dinner be like Hallmark greeting cards: formulas and things to say with no danger of tripping up, getting bogged down in memories or regrets or age-old issues.  Perhaps it’s a good thing, like the model-T was a good idea: the same black car for everybody, and prosperity for all.  But today things are different, and maybe we all ought to take turns saying grace, and using our own words, and not worrying if we go overtime with respect to the inner clock of our respective bashfulnesses.  Oprah said that one day to someone who complained she didn’t have time to read the books plugged by Oprah, although she would love to.  Oprah answered: why don’t you ask for a little time as your Christmas present?  A little time off from having to look after the family.  It’s precious to have a little time off.  There will never be enough time for this blog, it’s bulged out of any recognizable shape by now.  But a little time off for “Home” or for “Gilead” or for “2666″ or “Austerlitz” or “The Lay of the Land” — that would be a great idea for a Christmas present.  I’m sure there are people in our family who wouldn’t know what to say, or what to do with such an abstract gift.  But they would learn fast, and will certainly come back for more.  Our heavenly Father knows this.  That’s why his gifts have to be so bountiful.  To get us over the hurdles.  So use your own words, ok?, and discover new ways of expressing old truths.  Keep a eye peeled for lists of the best books of the year, the decade, the century, in the history of humanity!