Delight fills his eyes as he hears the word
Together we measure the ingredients and mix the batter.
The egg is added, the caution given.
"Not now my son, this isn't fit to eat."
Poured into the pan with anticipation building and the questions begin.
"How much longer?"
We talk of a journey taken long ago, from the cradle to the tomb.
His eyes brim with questions, these words don't hold meaning for him like they do for me.
Whispers of a son's longing to return home, a celebration awaiting him that is unlike any other.
His heart opens at the thought of coming home to his father after being away.
And still we wait.
Speaking of friends dear to this son who also waited anxiously.
Of the concept of miracle, something that wasn't but now is.
A batter unfit to eat, but not for much longer.
Slowly the wheels turn.
This flour, sugar and spice now changed and transformed.
The buzzer rings as his little face glows.
Soon this miracle can be enjoyed by us all.
Basking in the wonder and amazement of this season our hearts united in anticipation.
For this year we celebrate, celebrate, celebrate the return of a Son to his Father.