only there was no sleeping in involved, and nobody made banana pancakes.
As the seven of us sat at two separate tables - four in a booth on the left wall and three in the center of the room at a square table - a high, sweet, clear voice piped up above the early morning chit-chat of Camelot regulars and the muted clank and scrape of dishes from the kitchen.
"Lord, thank you so much...for this fellowship...for all the opportunities to praise you..." she then prayed that we would all live for our Lord, seek to please Him in every aspect of our lives. She prayed from her heart, and it was beautiful. I don't think anyone else in that little restaurant was paying attention to or even heard the group of giggly, college-aged girls with their heads bowed over breakfast; conversations went on around us, and the one waitress in the place continued delivering food to tables with her husky, brusque "more coffee?"
We lifted our heads after grace and smiled at one another before we bit into our pancakes, eggs, and cinnamon rolls.
The last full day of the semester was starting off well, grey skies or no; of course, any day can be made good when it's filled with friends, laughter, and hot, sweet coffee.
And cows.
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