The blessing

The prayer that my family recites before every meal goes like this: "Thank you, Jesus, for our food, amen." Originally the idea was to start with something easy to remember and transition into a prayer that was more, I dunno, reverent or something, when my brother and I were old enough to manage one. Except we never quite got around to doing that. Now whenever Sean and I sit down for a meal together we, too, rattle off "Thank you, Jesus, for our food, amen" before digging in.

This afternoon, as we sat down to Whataburger (it was medicinal, I swear, #worsthangoversincecollege) Sean mentioned that we needed to thank Jesus, so he lead us in the prayer: "Thank you, Jesus, for our--" and then, without skipping a beat, he said, "Whataburger, amen." (Which I suppose was appropriate, given that Whataburger is more or less modern-day manna.) 
 
We were sitting together in the living room tonight, enjoying the last few hours of the weekend, when Sean said, "Hey, remember this afternoon when we thanked Jesus for our Whataburger? I bet He thought that was funny. He was probably saying to himself, 'Oh, that Sean! He's such a character!'" And you know, I like to think Jesus really does have a sense of humor. Or at least an ear for sarcasm, otherwise that manna reference could land me in hot water.