Take the great loaf of life as if it is the last and greatest wonderful paradox of the moment. Offer thanks, awkwardly at first, and then, perhaps, with more boldness since your soul remains. Break open the bread as if all the constrictions of the world are nothing but whispy threads. Give generously to all those who have chosen to fall down after sensing something greater than themselves.
Give thanks to the gods of many things For dancing alive in still water For the smile on faces creased with years and for the delight of a first surprise For sleeping in under soft covers and the cracked window welcoming the cold air For brothers that call first thing in the morning and for sisters here and over there For all those who have gone before carefully placing the stones along the way For the drizzle that gives way to snow For gathering and not gathering with neighbors and with enemies knowing despite all knowing that there will be another year on the other side of this one
The paradox found in the sign saying exit pointing the way home. Being discovered in a desert place by someone carrying a glass of water. When the answer to the question, How do we get away from it all? does not matter. And the light from a distant room shortens the length down the hallway.
God, who sets the table before us, move the heavy-laden from our minds move the care-laden from our hearts, create a feast of bread and wine to share with those we cannot touch. Amen.