I’m truly sorry, Father, that my “bless the food” prayers so often get into a rut. Not just the same words, but probably the same numbing syllable count and even the same hackneyed cadence. “Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies” – I don’t even know what the grammar of that line implies.
What I want to really do is pause, right now, Lord, and thank you at this moment and in full awareness for this food. The salad with its tangy dressing and the croutons. The rich taste of this corn on the cob. My dinner roll and the exquisite flavor of the strawberry jam Aunt Jean gave us last weekend after church. And especially the blueberry sour cream pie . . . wow.
I know there’s more to my eating this meal than the economic cycle of seeds-crops-trucks-warehouse-bar code-pantry-say grace-eat. Food is here because you created a planet that would miraculously produce it. You give farmers a love for the soil and its productive power. You send the sunshine and the rain and the calcium in the dirt. And now I sit down to savor these very bites, and I want to remember that your goodness is present on my plate.
Lord, you know I love to eat! Thank you!