Every night before dinner, I say grace.
It’s not your typical Christian grace. I’m not religious, nor am I on very good terms with Jesus.
Instead, it’s an informal grace based on a line of dialogue from the movie Joe Versus The Volcano:
“Dear God, whose name I do not know. Thank you for my life. I forgot how BIG… Thank you. Thank you for my life.”
Upon saying this aloud with gusto, I revisit the emotional fortress of agape. It’s a place overflowing with gratitude, love, and awe for the grand mystery that is life. A positively hopeless place where I know deep down, this is it. A place where there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to be. A place where I can say, “If I died right now, that would be okay.”
Then I push out a ceremonial fart and proceed to devour my dinner.