An image of an old man praying over a loaf of bread hung in our kitchen all my years of growing up. We never talked about it. I stared at it often – but for no particular reason. However, now that I am older with a family of my own, this image is pressed firmly in my mind, and I appreciate the subtle impact it had on me as a child.
Today was the first day in probably 20 years that I have thought of this image. Since starting this blog a few days ago, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens around the kitchen table. This morning it wasn’t just a table to sit at while I ate, I saw it as a place of prayer.