I am snuggled up in my old gray t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants, sitting in my sister’s kitchen. I’m watching her make some sort of magical egg creation that I wouldn’t know the first thing about, and the entire kitchen is filled with the crackling sounds of bacon and the aroma of oil and potatoes. I want to stick my face in the pan and just eat it all now, but I feel like I would probably spend the rest of Christmas in the burn unit in the E.R. So I’ll just stay in my seat. I’m drinking coffee and hanging out with the baby doggy, Belle, who, as me and Erin have just discussed this morning, is basically the equivalent to a stuffed animal that moves without batteries.
Merry cozy Christmas.
Oh crap, I have to stir the potatoes. Unsupervised. I was put in charge of making a fruit salad this year. There is no cooking that goes into fruit salad. Just chopping. And yes I am still nervous that I’m going to screw it up. Or chop off my finger.
Have a great day. I hope that you can find rest in the fact that there is a God who loves you up in Heaven, and 2,000 years ago, He sent down His son to save us from this glorious mess we live in.
Happy Birthday, Jesus. In the words of David Bazan, may you bless this mess today.