The habit of giving thanks
Poster by Jordan Greene
“Thank you, Jesus, for our food and our friends. Amen.”
This is the prayer my family has been saying at dinner since our son, JR, started talking. He’ll be 10 1/2 next month.
I don’t remember who—my husband or I—came up with the wording, but I doknow that it was intentional. We wanted our family blessing to be something that even an toddler could say and understand; we wanted him to participate fully in telling Jesus that we are thankful.
Food and friends.
That sums it all up pretty well, I think.
The contrast between the moments before and after these words are said in our house is comical. The flurry of plating food, getting napkins, pouring drinks, remembering to feed the dog so she won’t beg throughout the meal, clearing off the table (or, yes, couch) that has accumulated the stuff of the day fades as my husband takes a deep breath and says, always so calmly, “JR, will you pray for our food?”
And before we break bread together, we hold hands. Then our son says the same 10 words that have been said at every dinner we’ve shared since he could talk.
It’s a simple prayer, but—for our family—there’s authority in it, a loving weight that tethers us to where we need to be: with one another, thanking Jesus for what we’ve been given.
Does it always feel like that? All warmth and family togetherness?
Heck no.
Our son is, after all, 10 and isn’t always stoked to pray, just like the rest of us. The words are sometimes rushed, sometimes dripping with pre-teen angst, and sometimes not said by JR at all because there are evenings when he is just not having it. But they are always said—not because we are legalistic but because we know they need to be said, especially in those moments when none of us are feeling it.
So we stick with it. It’s a rhythm and a posture being woven into our family’s DNA. In fact, there have been moments when JR has taken my hand to cross a busy street or grabbed his dad’s while they’re wrestling in the kitchen, and he starts to say this blessing without thinking. The simple act of feeling his hand clasped in his mother’s or father’s just brings those words out.
He usually dissolves into a charming pile of giggles when that happens, but we remind him that it’s always ok to say those words to Jesus. He's always happy to hear them.
It’s my prayer that those words stay with him—with us—always. That the habit being cultivated in all of us to receive our food and friends “with glad and generous hearts” digs deep and takes root. That it tethers us to each other, yes, but even more so to the One who offers the fullest nourishment and the fullest friendship.
Thank you, Jesus, for our food and our friends. Amen.
Amen, indeed.
(Written by Val Catrow)