Bottled happiness

“When did I stop thinking life was dessert?”

                         ~Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts

I allow my heart to meditate on that question, rolling it around like an unpolished stone. “When did I stop thinking life was dessert?” The question clatters, as rough corners collide with smooth surface.

My eyes and stomach took me to the fridge door multiple times this morning, not quite content with egg and yogurt. Finally, I sigh in satisfaction. A mountain of white bliss twirls itself above my morning coffee. Coaxing the last creamy froth from the aerosol can, I’m assured that happiness can be bottled in a blue Redi-Whip container.

I made myself sick before one day of middle school, leaning back and twirling stream after stream of the white stuff into my open mouth. In reckless moments, I might still be guilty. How childish. How immature.

Yet, as I press down on the serrated cap, I’m giddy. Often, meringue-looking crowns appear on my fingers before I delicately lick off each simple confection, savoring the sticky, sweet wet. A health-conscious friend recently lectured me on the evil ingredients lurking in bottled whipped cream. In my defense, my friend was staring at the off-brand bottle. My beloved Redi-whip has fewer additives. I also actually prefer the fat-free variety. However, calling it health food might still be a stretch.

“I watch the hand move grace on the clock face. I’m growing older . . . . But time is not running out. This day is not a sieve, losing time. With each passing minute, each passing year, there’s this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity.”

                             ~Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts

If I stand on the brink of eternity, then what else am I passing by, waving it off as too unhealthy, crazy, unplanned, messy, absurd? Hopefully, less and less. Hopefully, looking for eucharisteo – thanksgiving – in day-to-day rote and routine is changing that.

I still want, struggle, strive. But, as I adorned each eyelash with jet black mascara this morning and dabbed moisturizer over dark circles, the pink note card taped to my bathroom mirror spoke.  ^“Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men! For He satisfies the longing soul, And fills the hungry soul with goodness.” Psalm 107:8-10

Goodness. Brink of eternity. Hungry soul. Whipped cream.