Just like a prayer

There are several good things about Thanksgiving.

The food. Pile it high, pile it wide, pile it deep, and then go back for more. No one's going to look at you funny.

The company. Even if it isn't good, it's almost never bad.

The prayer. It's a delicate thing, prayer.

In my husband's family, prayer is remains the same, no matter if it's a Wednesday night in January or Easter morning.

"Lord, bless this food to our use and us to thy service. Bless those of us who aren't here. (short pause). Amen." If they're feeling particularly windy, "amen" is embellished with "in Christ's name we pray, Amen."

They're no dwellers, Episcopalians. Plus, they pray in the morning, they pray at night, they pray at church and they pray when they say something bad about someone. When it comes supper time, there just isn't much more to say.

The only time dinner prayer really gets interesting at my husband's home is when my Jewish stepfather-in-law says the blessing.

My family is Episcopresbian. We went to Presbyterian churches until (1) they asked for money too many times (2) the preacher made more than three house visits in a year or (3) they stopped serving wine at the Church Men's gatherings.

If any of above things happened, we'd find ourselves in at an Episcopalian service. Just about when we had the hang of kneeling to pray and sipping, not gulping, the wine from the Communion cup, we'd be back at our Presbyterian church, drinking grape juice.

The result is a blend of new and old, equal parts King James and Revised Standard, reserved God-fearing and emotional Jesus-loving.

Season that with some whiskey and wine, a few strangers my mother's met at the grocery store or gas station and invited over, and a table full of food just waiting to get cold, and you've got yourself a Thanksgiving prayer.

"Heavenly father," it starts, and that's when you know there's no way in hell you're going to get a warm biscuit. If the verb doesn't come in the first sentence, it'll be a short novel before you eat.

"Lord, let me first start by saying how glad we are you're here with us." Yes, Lord, we gave you the good seat. Be sure to try the gravy.

"Father you've blessed us in so many ways throughout our lives. Where do we even start, Lord, with all of the ways you've blessed us." Hope you had a snack earlier, big guy, cause this is gonna take a while.

"First, with these wonderful children and friends, who've travelled here to be with us. And you watched over them Lord, and cared for them, and guided them and persuaded them and helped them and kept them." Err, God, about that keeping thing...

"We all love so much, Lord, yet there is so much trouble in the world. So many people who go without. So many people who are hungry today. So many people hurting, in hospitals, asleep in gutters, alone on deserted islands, with sexual diseases, bad handbags and fake furs ." Pay attention, now. We're about to go over a cliff.

"Oh there are so many things we're thankful for, Lord, like Edna and James Marie who had the foresight 40 years ago on the occasion of our wedding to give us the silver-plated pickle knives that adorn our table today. And blessed Aunt Bets, who on her death bed willed us her collection of crusifixes and this lovely hand-made table cloth, even though Martha Lee kissed her ass trying to get it."

"Finally, Lord, thank you for pulling brother Tom through his hernia surgery and allowing our dear friend Bill to pass that gall stone so quickly and easily. And me, Lord, I had a bowel problem earlier this week, but I prayed to you and it cleared right up." Yowza. Are you there, God, it's me, Kitty?

"Well, I guess that's about it. You're good, God. Darn good. And we love you for it. We'll never forget you God -- not ever. Not any day. Never, ever, ever, will we forget. Every single day from this day on will be just like Thanksgiving. Without all the food and beforementioned gas, of course."

"In Christ's name we pray..."

Amen.