Barbara Laymon

Praying and blogging along the way

Happy Thanksgiving!

November 26, 2011

Tags: Prayer

We have a tradition in my family at Thanksgiving of going around the table and saying something we are thankful for. I used to really enjoy this custom and I still wouldnít stop it. But lately, something about it has really started to trouble me. Putting aside the outlier years Ė the tough years where everything has gone wrong and the great years where there have been some real joys to celebrate Ė itís the in-between years, which are most years, that really make me stop and wonder: exactly what is going on here?
We go around the table and everyone tries so hard to say something kind, and grateful, and yet one can tell that all is not well. That one person is happier than others. That one person seems a little sheepish somehow. That one personís voice might be a little too determined when announcing the always popular ďIím thankful for my family.Ē That one personís voice might betray some regrets about how her year has gone.
And so somehow Thanksgiving falls victim to this human tendency to make everything about us. About how our year has gone. About our relative fortune or lack of it and the unfairness of it all. Isnít thanksgiving for everyone? Arenít we all equally blessed? This is the kind of thing that bothers me. Not that I want to stop our little Thanksgiving custom itself Ė for one thing, that wouldnít solve anything.
What I needed was a new perspective Ė a fresh way to think about Thanksgiving day. I began to cast about in my mind for some alternative. Something straightforward. Accessible. And then I remembered a prayer to use at Thanksgiving. (more…)

Heaven on Earth with the Nationals (Matthew 6:10)

June 13, 2010

Tags: Lord's Prayer, Prayer, Strasburg, Bible

First: Stephen Strasburg is not God, nor is he a god. Thatís not what Iím saying. For more on this, see Bill Murray
But back to Strasburg. His first night of pitching for the Nationals was heaven. My (non-students-of-the-game) friends have asked me, with puzzled expressions, why I keep talking about it and just what all the excitement was about.
It was like a fine glass of wine. Or a great meal, (more…)