Yesterday afternoon we went out to lunch with some friends from church. On the way home my wife, Sara, made one of those hints that she often makes when she would like to do something, but wants me to be the one to “decide.” She said, “I kind of want some ice cream,” in her almost-talking-to-herself-but-really-hoping-I’m-listening voice.
So I pulled into Braum’s.
We got Morgan (now 18 months old) out of her car seat, and walked inside with her. Sara and I made our selections (Morgan is not old enough to choose for herself, nor will she be until she is roughly thirty five). I ordered my usual chocolate soft serve with peanut butter cup pieces blended in (Braum’s name for it is kind of boring: Mix). Sara decided to try something new: two scoops of chocolate cheesecake ice cream.
We paid for our treats and loaded back up in the car. As we were pulling out, Sara told Morgan to tell me, “Thank you;” and she obliged in her toddler language, saying, “Tanktoo.”
I backed out of the parking space and headed toward the parking lot exit. Morgan said, “Daddy?” I said, “Yes, baby girl?” She said, “Tanktoo.”
Sometimes I feel like my little prayers of thankfulness to God, thanking Him for my food, for nice weather, for safe travel, are rather frivolous and unimportant. Compared to the incredibly important things we sometimes pray about, like life-threatening illnesses and salvation for the lost, these little “meal-prayers” seem inconsequential.
But if God feels half as good receiving our thanks as I did being thanked by my little girl, then those little prayers we say are more meaningful to Him than a thousand prayers for healing or forgiveness.
Colossians 3:15 (ESV)
And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.