My sisters Janice and Joyce invited everyone downstairs for the evening meal yesterday. It was soup and salad, desert, and then my son got Wii connected to the large monitor, where we had some time together. I was glad to see Kinya and Keima relaxed and smiling, having a good time.
I so much preferred this to a fancy meal at a French restaurant, I thought to myself. I mean, when anyone wanted seconds on the soup, we could feel free to go get more--the pot of soup was in the kitchen only a hop away. No one felt uncomfortable about squirting their own whipped cream on the dessert. And of course, whoever thought about having to dress up for the meal or feeling too proper to lounge on the sofa after the meal while chuckling at the person struggling with the Wii controller?
When the menfolk went home, I stayed behind in order to finish wrapping Christmas gifts, thinking, Jesus probably would've felt uncomfortable in a French restaurant too. Instead, He decided maybe He'd spend time with us everyday folk, eating our salads and soups.
