Prayer for grandmothers

Father, the new year came in quiet here. I had my tea. I watched the early light find the same chair it always finds. Joshua 5:12 says they ate the fruit of the land of Canaan that year, and what struck me this morning was the word ate. Not conquered. Not celebrated. Not even thanked exactly. Just ate. After all those decades of manna, I am still being fed, and the food has changed without me always noticing. Once it was the fast kind, brought in a rush between chores and noise. Now it is the slow kind, brought in quiet hours and afternoon naps and a stove that hardly gets used. Both are Yours. I do not need a big, loud year. I need to keep sitting down to what You set out. Help me not look down on quiet provision. Help me not make the old days sound better than they were. Let me eat what is here, with the people who are here, and lift my eyes long enough to see where it came from. If You give me twelve more months at this table, that will be enough. If You give me fewer, the bread was still bread. Keep me grateful past the hour I would otherwise stop noticing. Amen.