I still wear my blessing bracelet from an intergenerational service last fall. During the service, we honored our time together by giving a blessing as we tied a string around each other’s wrists. The blessings were not fancy. They were simple statements of goodwill:  “I wish you health and happiness,” or “I wish you friendship and good grades,” whatever we might think appropriate to the person we were blessing.

Earlier in the fall, I would receive a different kind of blessing when my mother underwent major cranial surgery.  Spending long anxious hours in the hospital, I was finding myself telling the truth when asked how I was doing.  Instead of “fine” I would pour my heart out, usually to a store cashier, “Not great.  It’s been a long day.  My mother’s in the hospital, and things are a little up and down right now.”  More times than not, I got a blessing in reply:  “I’m so sorry to hear that – I hope your mother gets better soon. You take care now.”

Fleeting as these moments were with total strangers, they provided connection and the understanding that even in more public spaces, we can be generous in spirit with each other, and acknowledge our shared humanity.  They were just the right salve for the worry and aloneness I was feeling, as I waited for my mother’s condition to improve.

And judging by the comments of appreciation after the blessing ritual at the intergenerational service, we could all use a little more in the way of blessings.  “I was really feeling in need of kind words tonight – thank you for that,” someone said to me.   The problem is we live in a world that has forgotten how to bless.  Spiritual teacher John O’Donohue writes that in the parched-ness of post-modernity, discovering how to bless can be like discovering a fresh well. “When a blessing is invoked, it changes the atmosphere. Some of the plentitude flows into our hearts from the invisible neighborhood of loving kindness.”

Blessings don’t always need to be spoken.  They can be a a silent wish from the bottom of the heart, for the very best for others, on the bus, on the street, in places of work and play.  All it takes is a little practice, and then it becomes a habit with consequences that can even change the world, says Pierre Pradervand in “The Gentle Art Of Blessing,” because It is impossible to bless and judge at the same time.

So as a reminder to bless, I will keep wearing my two-string bracelet.  Hopefully, by the time it frays and falls off, I will be a practiced peacemaker . . .