Saying Grace: Postcards vs. Epistolaries

grace:  A short prayer of blessing or thanksgiving said before or after a meal. 

I am a non-religious person. I do not practice any formal religion of any stripe and haven't done so for many years. I do, however, believe in, and try to practice, religious tolerance. In fact, I usually see it as a matter of courtesy.  

But there's a pet peeve I have. Perhaps one that you yourself share. It's about grace-sayers who use saying grace as their bully pulpit. It usually happens at a family gathering but I’ve also experienced it in a more public arena where a religious leader takes advantage of the ready-made audience and attempts to advance his or her proselytizing agenda. 

Here's why I find this particular thing so annoying. I believe using the time before a meal for anything other than blessing the food is a gross misuse of power. If the grace-sayer could say their blessing in a few short sentences or even after the meal they are delaying, I'd probably be in a more charitable mood. But using precious time (while the food is getting cold and tummies are rumbling) to bless anything other than the food comes off to me as plain rude. If you’re guilty of this and you are keeping good folks from politely “digging in”, then just stop it. Let the cook silently thank God that he or she got the meal done without burning down the house. Let the cook silently implore God to find it in His or Her will to have enough food on the table for all present. Let the cook silently ask God if she has forgotten anything.

I rather like the bit about "or after" in the above definition of grace. I've often thought that after a meal was a more fitting place to say grace. Put that whole tradition of public grace-saying at the end of the meal and there's plenty who will be mighty thankful that their tummies are full and the food was good. All the non-religious will also be more likely to say “Hear, hear!” to a grace said at the end of a meal. They may even be able to burp up a pleasant "Amen!" It's possible they may even be a little more tolerant of any “extras” the grace-sayer may feel compelled to slip in. If they aren't, then at least they might be able to slip out quietly, assuming, of course, they have already given their compliments to the chef.

It's my belief that God, if He's there, does not give you extra points for creating a grand pre-meal epistolary. He (or maybe She) is probably just glad to hear from you. So, the next time you're asked to say grace at a gathering, please do the courteous thing:  Stay on topic – remember, it's about the food  –  and keep it short. Postcards, folks, not epistolaries.

Outsider-ism and Belonging

I've been a facilitator for a writing group for over ten years.  There are a good number of our group who have been coming for much of that ten years. A few have done some great writing and managed to at least self-publish some respectable books. Many have the same occasional but continued commitment to writing that I do.  We are not out to set the world on fire with our writing.  We enjoy the act of writing and we want to make what we write better. It's not that we don't dream about great publishing pursuits and successes but there may be others besides myself who could lay claim to the title of "the Walter Mitty of the Writing World".

And then there are the new people.  Those who arrive on meeting night looking for an answer to the isolation and inferiority we all feel when we confront the blank page.  Or when we continue to fail at finding the time for our pursuits.  Will this group help us get to where we want to be?  Can I bring something useful to this group?  Am I good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, will people like me?  (Also, as extension, is my writing good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, will people like it?)

The tables were turned this week.  I found myself the odd outsider.  The one who had a vision for something that was too big to accomplish on my own.  And then the one who wanted to join in, find a creative voice, add to the bigger picture that someone else had envisioned.  I became a member of the 2012 XPT group simply by applying and showing up.  But becoming a working, contributing member will take a little more effort.  What can I do?


XPT is Experimental Puppetry Theater at the Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta.  It's a 45 minute ride into town.  It's a commitment.  I've got a stressful full-time job and a grandbaby on the way in another country and a mother downsizing to an apartment.  I've got a writers group to attend to.


I primarily applied to XPT as a project director.  An effort to turn an idea into a full-fledged puppetry production or short film.  But for reasons not yet fully understood, my project was passed up in favor of others.  I'm okay with that.  Really, I am.  But I told myself from the get go that if I couldn't be a project director, I at least wanted to be involved in helping others get their projects underway.  I like the feeling of community and camaraderie and group efforts in making something really interesting and artistic and awesome.  I want to be a part of it.  A helper.  But again, what can I do?  How do I break in?

I'd asked at the interview what the predominant demographic was of the folks who participated in XPT in the past.  I was fishing for whether or not there'd be a lot of seasoned -- ahem, well-seasoned, as in salt and peppered hair -- people in the ranks.  I got the idea that this was basically a younger "man's" game.  But I wasn't particularly discouraged from joining.  But the fit...

So, yes, I showed up at the XPT kickoff night where the project directors explain their concepts and people who were looking to help introduced themselves.  How might I have introduced myself, had I not chosen to sit in the front row and been called on first?  After having heard a number of people later admit to being total newbies, might I have been more comfortable? Might I have been able to "sell" my "mad skills" somehow?  As it was, I may have come off as a bit meek and goofy.  Is it really possible to be both meek and goofy at the same time?  (Goofy takes at least a smidgen of boldness, right?)


And what was this blog, written a couple of weeks ago, trying to say?  Something about feeling out of place.  Something about making others feel welcome. Something about wanting to contribute and not quite knowing how.  And probably something about confidence and lack of it.  I didn't post it then. It wasn't finished.  It isn't finished now but it's preventing me from moving on. Silly, yes. Move on, I say.