The smell of spices wafted towards me, distracting me from my date’s prayer until he said, “God, thank you for giving Thai food to humanity.”
I choked on my saliva as I tried to hold back a laugh. In one sentence his prayer shattered the sombre Christianity that creeps around America. In thanking God for the heap of rice noodles between us, my date was paying homage to the Grand Chef who injected flavor and fun into the necessity of eating.
This incident reminded me that I need to make room in my prayers for Pad Thai…and electric blankets and Mozart’s concertos and when the Buckeye’s win (if I was an Ohio State fan).
Photo courtsey of Luca Nebuloni via flickr.com
Too often my prayers–and my spirituality–fixate on the abstract. I know God wants me to pray, but does he really care if I love swing dancing? I know he wants me to forgive, but does it matter to him whether I appreciate the artistry in one of Emily Dickinson’s poems?
