Some choices we make for our children; some we make for the child in our selves. This was mine:

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The choice is clear and right in front of me: FREE bavarian creme filled eclair or FREE oat bran muffin. I pause, lost in the glare of the blinking florescent light bouncing off the flimsy black plastic of the complimentary light breakfast tray. Is this the sum of many choices or just one?

By itself this choice really doesn’t amount to much, but cumulatively? Is this the choice that kills me? The bavarian creme straw that bursts the camel’s blood vessels? I must choose now; people are looking.

I’m still staring at the tray, fingers hovering back and forth in the air between the two.

Eclair.

Muffin.

Eclair.

Muffin.

Which one?

WHICH ONE?!

Things have been a little tense of late, that’s true. Money is tight and my schedule doesn’t allow for much exercise. By the time I’m home from work and tuck the kids in bed it’s already too late. My efforts from the new year to hit the treadmill for twenty minutes a day are irregular at best, and when life is crazy, healthy eating is often the first to go. So too goes joy. I enjoy healthy eating and enjoy it best when tempered with the odd indulgence against which it can be juxtaposed. But too many indulgences can cut years off my life and those are years I want to spend with my children and their children.

Yet, to enjoy life is to is to find joy in living. Must I play the ascetic? Should I pick the muffin just because it is healthier? Was this the cause of the downfall of Rome? A billion tiny little selfish choices choosing joy over restraint? Is that the crux of the problem of sin? Oh well. It’s not my fault the healthy option doesn’t taste as good. I didn’t make my taste buds. If God wants to kill me for eating a bavarian creme filled eclair instead of a bran muffin just this once, so be it. My inner child needs some joy on this gloomy, rainy, windy, florescent-powered day. A ray of sunshine wrapped in fried dough and filled with bavarian creme. And I thank God for the joy in every sloppy drop of it.

 

 

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