Some people say that we live in the “new normal”. I’m not sure what they mean exactly, and I don’t have the time to ask, nor do I feel like it.
If the “new normal” is what I have been experiencing in the parsonage for the past few months, I totally agree. Let him continue. Everyone should be able to live their own normality.
Due to being limited when it comes to traveling and shopping or whatever, the kindly parsonage teacher and I have spent a lot of time at home enjoying our time together.
I must say that my wife and I don’t always agree. After all, I’m 6’3 “and she’s only 5’2”. I’m tempted to say sometimes, but I value my life too much, that I have a “higher perspective” than my wife. But you didn’t hear it for me.
We have spent almost half a century together and we are getting out of it in the friendliest way. Some people might say that we are opposites in many ways. She is on the vegetable side of the table and I am on the fruit side.
There have been some small confrontations about it. She is a vegetable connoisseur and I, well, let’s just say I’m a fruit junkie. The only vegetable I really approve of is carrot cake.
Other than that, we have been able to build a wonderful life together. I didn’t realize how much it was until all this “lockdown” nonsense that we are in now.
When I go out, come home and enter the house, I am overwhelmed by the aroma that runs throughout the house. The first time this happened, I had to stop and try to figure out what was happening. Then it became clear that the kind lady of the parsonage had spent the whole day cooking or baking.
One day it is baked and the next day it is cooked and put together, it is wonderful.
We haven’t eaten in a restaurant for months, instead we have enjoyed home-cooked meals all the time. I’m not sure if I should leave a tip!
I remember one day when I entered the house the aroma was one of my favorites. My wife had been baking cookies all day and the house was filled with that beautiful aroma.
On the table were cookies fresh from the oven, and in the oven was a new batch of cookies. Those cookies on the table smelled so good. Not only that, but they also looked delicious. I’m not sure how delicious it looks, but those cookies came very close to that definition.
I came and stood by the cookies and looked at them, and then I heard, “Don’t you dare touch one of those cookies!”
Looking up, my wife was looking at me, knowing full well my intention to snatch a cookie from me. The problem with cookies on the table is that when you take one, there is an empty space so you can’t get away with it.
“But darling, they look and smell so wonderful. This must be the best batch of cookies you’ve ever made.”
I am trying to negotiate to get at least one cookie. The problem is that no one, especially me, can negotiate with the kind lady of the parsonage.
I looked at her, looked back at the cookies and then back at her with some of the saddest eyes I could make. If he could have created a tear, he would have done it at that time.
At the time, I knew I would have to wait to eat a cookie, but it was killing me not just to smell them, but to see in the same room that I am in. That torture is inhuman.
I went into the living room and sat down to watch some television. Within moments, my wife came in with a cookie and said, “You can have one cookie a day.”
Smiling at him, I accepted the cookie and took pleasure in gratifying my cookie-itis. And it was wonderful. My problem at the time was that it was only one and it was small.
I found out that I was making these cookies for other people and family members. I tried to tell her that I was a family member, but she made a face at me and continued baking the cookies.
How can anyone live on just one cookie a day?
Later, I saw plastic bags full of cookies on the table designated for a friend or family member. An idea fell apart in my head at that moment. When my wife said, “one cookie a day,” what did that really mean?
Looking at all the bags of cookies on that table, I developed my own interpretation and assumed it was one cookie per day per plastic bag. I hope you don’t realize my plan, but I have enjoyed your cookies all day. Remember, I only ate one at a time.
While enjoying my last cookie, a scripture verse came to mind. “My children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:18).
My words mean nothing unless they are backed up by what I do. I think I must confess to my wife that I took the cookie from her.