“Please, I would like a large veggie pizza with extra cheese. Thank you!” He said.
He asked politely. He said thanks, too. Not budging, I pushed back.
“No!” I responded with firm conviction that surprised us both.
“I’ll die if you don’t get me my pizza,” he warned. “And for saying no, now you can add a cookie dough dessert to the list!” He demanded. He was becoming more childish the older he became.
He knows my weakness. Chocolate chip cookie dough with coffee would be so …
“No!” I fired back and stood straight while trying to push my chest beyond my belly in a childlike, yet not childish standoff.
I knew he was angry. I feared his retaliation. I could taste his revenge. One gets to know another well after more than six decades living in close quarters.
“Add the meat-lover’s option! This is your last warning,” he bargained. “You know you want it, too!”
I do want it I confessed to myself. He read my thought and smiled victoriously. How can I shut him out? I wondered.
I moved toward the refrigerator’s leftovers instead of calling for a home delivery. I found some chicken, kimchi, and a single sheet of sushi yaki.
He scowled while I prowled for the makisu. He was steaming. I was beaming as I spent the next fifteen minutes preparing my pauper’s plate.
I snapped a shot of my orange and green confection. Far from perfection, it’s taste was sharp and cutting with ginger and garlic that went together like orange and green.
We were still not speaking when we both heard another’s Word.
God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
He looked down and away but I confronted him face to face with the loving compassion of an old friend. I looked directly into the mirror at him. He returned my stare with a glare.
“I love you,” I said. “I know you’re getting older and slower, but you must see I’m becoming younger and fresher each day. My Lord God is renewing me from the inside out. Soon you will die. Do you understand?”
The man in the mirror nodded obediently.
“Death shall soon separate us,” I continued “and I will go ahead of you. You shall follow me later when our Lord raises you from the dead and gives you a new body to match my new spirit.”
He turned away to eat the bittersweet and forgot the pizza. While he ate to feed my body, I fed on these words to feed my spirit:
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
Death would be sad if it were not for the promise of eternal life.
My victory yesterday was bittersweet. Although the portion was tiny and did not fill his belly nor my appetite, I celebrated my victory. I prolonged the moment by eating my lunch with chopsticks.
Rx: 2 Timothy 1:7 and 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.