An Atheist Said Grace

America had a holiday this past week, just in case you didn’t know.  It’s a day where we basically sit around a table with people we typically try to avoid, we eat way more than is even physically possible, watch football, and be thankful for all we have.  We do this to celebrate the first feast the Pilgrims had with American Indians, you know right before they stole their land and murdered their people.  We have a big parade, then we go to sleep and wake up the next day to go to stores where we will kill each other over a toaster that is marked down 5%.  This dark day of sales marks the beginning of the holiday season and ushers in unhinged materialism dotted with sugary sappy sweet sentiments of joy that no one really feels.  It’s like Disney had sex with a Trump and created this catastrophe that has become Christmas.

 

If your family is anything like mine, they do the Thanksgiving thing with gusto.  A feast that would feed a small country is placed on a table and we laugh at jokes that are really not that funny.  We avoid topics that we know will upset each other.  Yet, there is always that brief moment where all eyes come to me.  It’s that moment right before the turkey is carved, somber hands clenched to give grace to a god I don’t believe in.  In a single instant, my parents find a way to make me feel completely ill-prepared.  Like I showed up to class without my report written.  It’s hard to tell them my dog ate my grace.  This year I was prepared.  This year I was not going to allow them to catch me off guard.  Oh, this year I was not going to stand there shaking my head like a fool.  No, this was the year I was going to take their derisive stares and turn them into eyes wide open in shock.  This was the year that I embraced my atheism and said my grace.  I went to the dinner table prepared this year.  I knew exactly how it would go and I ran with it.

The moment came.  Mom and Dad stood there, eyes upon me, “I think you should say grace.”  Every other time I would bow out and shake my head.  Not this year.  They want me to give grace, that’s just fine, I will give grace.  I stood tall, heads bowed down around me, and I began:

“Today we are told that we should be thankful for what we have and I think that is exactly what we should do.  I am thankful for the farmer that raised this fine turkey and slaughtered it so that we can eat it.  I am thankful for the truck drivers that left their families for days on end to deliver the food we are eating.  I am thankful for the store employees that don’t make nearly enough to put up with the crappy people they deal with on a daily basis.  I am thankful that my car is functioning properly and I was able to drive to the store to buy these groceries.  I am thankful that I have a good job that allows me the income necessary to feed a family of eight.  I am thankful that I am healthy enough to carry in the ridiculous amount of groceries that were required to prepare this meal.  I am thankful that we are good cooks and nothing was burnt and that the smoke alarm didn’t go off.  I am thankful that I have a family to spend today with, in a house, and that we are relatively comfortable sitting around this table.  What I am mostly thankful for is that my family has given me this opportunity to thank those that truly need to be thanked and to remind me of all the good things in my life.  I won’t thank a god that would feed our family but ignore all those that are starving and alone today.  If he was there he doesn’t deserve to be thanked for that simple reason.”

My family:

If your family asks you to say grace, don’t bow out.  The time to bow out of conversations to make others feel better has passed.  There’s too much riding on our shoulders now.  As religion digs their heels into every aspect of life in this country, atheists need to be more outspoken and we need to come out of our shadowy depths to make a positive change.  Trust me they will survive the shock of what you say, guaranteed.