Grace

On the way to a burial this morning, I heard the Writer's Almanac on NPR, and Mr. Keillor read a most delightful--and even inspiring--poem, which I thought was worth sharing with you:

"Grace," by Linda Pastan

When the young professor folded
his hands at dinner and spoke to God
about my safe arrival
through the snow, thanking Him also
for the food we were about to eat,
it was in the tone of voice I use
to speak to friends when I call
and get their answering machines,

chatting about this and that
in a casual voice,
picturing them listening
but too busy to pick up the phone,
or out taking care of important
business somewhere else.
The next day, flying home
through a windy
and overwhelming sky, I knew
I envied his rapport with God
and hoped his prayers
would keep my plane aloft.