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.


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