and the hills be clothed with joy. Psalm 65:13
As I pour milk onto my organic whole-wheat cereal, I pause. I become aware of the significance of that food in my bowl. I have simply opened a box that came from the grocery store. I do not see the framers or plowed fields behind my bowl of cereal. But there would be no cereal without them.
Yesterday I drove past miles of farms, admiring stone houses and red barns, hoping to see the fresh green of new growth. I saw brown. Brown trees, brown fields, brown lawns in the foreground of dull landscapes. And yet beneath and behind and within that leaden wilderness the miracle of seed and water and light is already at work. And that miracle will be recognized and nurtured by people I will never see or know, and yet because of their faith and determination I will eat.
So much of what I have of life comes from the labor of unknown others. Without one another, and the gifts we employ, we would only hunger in the wilderness. I belatedly say grace over my cereal, offering thanks for God’s generosity and goodness, and for all the hands that have prepared my meal. I hold myself in the moment, humbled by the thought of just how many they might be.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2014