I spent the better part of our afternoon baking cookies. Although baking is an outlet for me most times of the year, baking at THIS time of year is more of a marathon. In early December I get out all my Christmas cookie cookbooks and family recipes and sit down with a nice lime green post-it pad. I spend a good hour or two putting post-it notes on all the recipes I intend to bake. I formulate my ingredient list, complete with how much of each ingredient I will need, and the approximate the cost it will be for all the items.
The next day, after shopping, I lay out all the ingredients and tackle the post-it-note recipes. In a 4 hour time stretch, I am usually able to knock out several different batches of tried and true favorites. I get excited as my cookie tray slowly fills with tempting treats like brightly iced sugar cookies, red and white candy cane shaped cookies, chocolate covered Oreos, jam thumb-print cookies and classic peanut butter blossoms (as pictured above).
This year, my little one decided to visit the cooling rack while I stepped away from the kitchen. Focused on cleaning things up, I had not looked over the “just baked” cookies again until all the work was done. I glanced at the cookies one more time before leaving the kitchen and had to suppress a laugh at what I saw.
Little fingers, unable to control the urge, evidently passed through the best part of the cookie, leaving smears of evidence behind. It was obvious that the temptation was just too much for her!
“She just couldn’t resist the urge; she just had to get close enough to touch it.” I thought.
I confess, I got caught up in the smashed peaks and quickly called her into the kitchen.
“Did you do this?” I asked.
I didn’t need an answer. Her little face, sheepishly looking at me, said enough. Her face showed mixed feelings of immense satisfaction yet genuine remorse.
I just smiled. “Ok, don’t do it to anymore though.”
After having some time to reflect, I have come to the conclusion that it really is what the season is all about.
Something so special, so tender, so precious —being just within our reach. Wanting to touch Him, to sample His sweetness, wanting to lean in and fully experience all that He has to offer. Being close to the baby Jesus would be just as tempting.
If I were there, in the stable the night Jesus was born, I think I would have the same reaction my little one had to those cookies.
I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge; I would want to get close enough that I could touch Him.