Sopping eggs with bits and bites of toast; dipping rare steak in runny eggs; my Lord what a morning

Later the Lord sent this message to King Ahaz: "Ask the Lord your God for a sign of confirmation, Ahaz. Make it was difficult as you want -- as high as heaven or as deep as the place of the dead*"

"But the king refused. "No," he said. "I will not test the Lord like that."

But Isaiah said, "Listen well, you royal family of David! Isn't it enough to exhaust human patience? Must you exhaust the patience of my God as well?All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin* will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means 'God is with us'). By the time this child is old enough to choose what is right and reject what is wrong, he will be eating  yogurt and honey."

So, there you go. From the prophet's mouth comes Immanuel. From the prophecy itself comes God is with us.

This morning -- a dreary, mopey, gray day that features little hope and even less yogurt (or curds) and honey -- we're teetering on the brink. The prophet Isaiah tells us, commands us to wait, squeezing all the human patience we can of  the prophetic toothpaste from the prophetic tube. Isaiah rewards us all with a sign, God with us, but still we must wait, and wait, and wait.

Till when it seems that we've exhausted all the patience we can ever call on, a sign, the sign is given, the gift is rewarded, the moment comes shockingly and surprisingly. The Bible tells us once and perhaps for all that by the time this child is old enough to choose right and reject wrong, like some cosmic election day, the Lord will start whistling up an army or two.

Friends, out on the street corner, screaming for an eternal being to be with us, the sign is with is, given to us, rewarded to us. As we are near that blessed moment, sign-giving what it is and all, the Bible fairly shouts, "You wanted it, now you've got it."

Little bitty pretty one, we sing, we dance, we chatter with teeth endlessly rattling on. What a special, special moment ... God is with us, in us, by us.  God is refreshingly lifting us higher than we've ever been lifted before, and it just doesn't seem to want to stop. Higher. Higher. Love lifting like we're not going to ever let it stop.

Depression, gone.
Anger, wiped away.
Love keeping on lifting higher and higher. Horns blaring, high notes screeching like, well, like Screech.

Chewing yogurt and honey like they were steak and eggs. ... curds and whey like they were bran flakes and sweet milk ... syrup and a dose of pancakes like they were the last bite we will ever take.

Work it out. Mash potato. Do the twist. Tell me baby, do you like it like this?

Seems the morning gray is burning off rather smartly.

My Lord, what a morning.