I’ve been in the upstairs office all day today editing old short stories that I wrote in college (wow, I used a lot of adjectives back then). Any time I get in that writing “zone” I always eat junk food. Not because I crave it or because it’s comforting, but because it’s easy and I can eat it one-handed. So, with that in mind, I’m sure you can deduce that my lunch was all but super-nutritious. In fact, it was graham crackers and peanut butter and lemonade.
Well, at first it was just graham crackers and lemonade. But then I said to myself:
you know what this needs? Peanut butter.
So off I went, down the stairs into the pantry to grab the pb and a knife to spread it with. And then up the stairs I ran.
Did you catch that? I almost didn’t either, until I was halfway up the stairs and I looked down into my left hand and thought:
I’m running up the stairs with a knife in my hand. I’m glad Jesus loves me because otherwise this could really end badly.
I’m sure you’re all interested to know, both I and my peanut butter survived the ascent.