Grace and Peace to you.
You think it is an ordinary day,
dull even, the weariness familiar.
But then he reaches into that moment,
the ordinariness of it, so small,
five rolls and two sardines, whatever
you happen to have along,
takes away your little sack of inadequacy,
your confidence of your unworthiness,
whatever you cling to, your sustenance,
your tiny hoard, your lunch for one,
blesses it, calls it divine, and a gift,
as if what is of earth is enough,
breaks it up so that you could not possibly
have it or live with it it again,
and gives it away, all of it, no longer yours
but God’s, whose hands are a hungry world,
and you can’t limit the way it multiplies,
the people it feeds, the wonder it becomes,
as if all long he has known that it was not slight
but hiding a miracle, bearing unseen abundance.
It is not the bread that is transformed
but the little hard roll of your trust,
the two little fish of your thinking
that you’ve seen the bottom of it,
your sureness that miracles come from nowhere
and not from right where you are.
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes