I don’t mean to dis Jesus, as I get that He did some mighty amazing things while still a man, but as far as I know, it was not His idea to dust chocolate truffles with sea salt. He may have thought about it, having been baptized in the River Jordan, oh-so-close to the Dead Sea and all, but there is nothing in the scrolls suggesting the finest salt of the earth be crumbled atop dark chocolate and caramel.
It’s the closest thing to holy I’ve experienced this week. A modern day miracle, as far as I’m concerned. But produced by mortals who will remain mortals.
I’m OK with that. With the godliness of certain moments having nothing to do with a deity. Just the willingness to taste, see, hear, feel and touch those things which are simultaneously mundane (salt, cocoa, caramel) and sublime.
In Blue Shoe, one of Anne Lamott’s characters describes that sometimes it’s not enough to have God always present, God ephemerally with us – sometimes we need a God with skin. The story comes from a child’s point of view, as if only a child would want a real live person to hold us, hug us – or, I’ll take it one step further, a God with fingers and a candy thermometer and human creativity to pair salty with sweet in a way that has forever changed dessert.
I don’t know if there are any other miracles in store for me this week. Most likely not. My household is peopled by very tired creatures who seem to be limping toward the end-of-the-year finish line. So we may have to purchase some of our miracles, or remember to step outside on the front step after dark and look up at the stars, look for sunshine coming in through the trees.
It’s right there