Tonight I lost the toss and drove out to pick up fried chicken for a lazy Friday dinner. On the way, I caught a glimpse of the full moon and it snatched my breath away. How can this night--the night we remember the death of our Lord--be this heavy, dripping with such beauty?
When I got home, the girls had cleared the table and were waiting for dinner. So we ate. It was late and we were all hungry, and the chicken was so greasy and crispy and good.
But after we ate, I took a biscuit, and broke it and said "This is his body, broken for you." And I passed the fragments to Hannah, to Bryan and Meira. And I poured a glass of juice (apple-cranberry, I think) and we talked (in between nibbles of french fries) about what a new covenant means in our lives today. And we each sipped some juice.
And there, with a take-out boxes on the table and failings in our hearts, God met us.