Shout to the Lord

I dearly love my grandfather. Although he is a stoic, formal type of man, we have a wonderful friendship. For the entirety of my thirty-seven years, my grandfather has always said the same grace before meals: "Lord, make us thankful for these and our many other blessings. In Christ's name we ask it, Amen." It's a good blessing. Several of the men in my family use it.

My grandfather departed from tradition this Thanksgiving. He started to pray a freeform, from-the-heart, beautiful blessing. I wish I had been able to hear it, but my 2 year old started screaming about a sentence into it. He suddenly decided that, before eating the meal, he wanted out of the feeding chair. Immediately. I shushed him, and that made him scream and cry louder. I wanted to pick him up and carry him out, but would have had to pick up the entire dining room chair, with feeding seat and thirty pound child attached, and run to another room. Running with furniture was not feasible.

I covered my son's mouth with my hand, which he usually thinks is funny. It wasn't funny that day. It enraged him. He screamed louder. My grandfather continued with his prayer as if nothing were odd. My mother got up and walked around me and tried to appease her grandson by giving him a piece of bread. How dare she? Didn't she know that a piece of bread was no match for world injustices? Now my child was mad at both mommy and grandmother. As soon as my grandfather drew to a close and wrapped up with "Amen," the screaming magically stopped. With a red, wet face, my son proceeded to calmly nibble some green beans and dressing. I'm sure my grandfather said a lovely Thanksgiving blessing, but we have no idea what he said.

My precious little baby boy turns two this week. I guess since he's a big boy now, he wanted to say his own blessing. What he was thankful for, I have no idea.