The waitress comes over and recognizes the family seated at the table -- Mr. and Mrs. Smith and their little son, Jonathan. She says, "Jonathan, what would you like?"
He says, "I'll have a grilled cheese sandwich."
She says, "Jonathan, I'm sorry, we don't serve grilled cheese sandwiches."
He says, "You have a grill, don't you?"
The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man's history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. . . . There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true. . . . This story is supreme; and it is true. Art has been verified. God is the Lord, of angels, and of men - and of elves. Legend and History have met and fused."
A nurse on the pediatric ward, before listening to the little one's chests, would plug the stethoscope into their ears and let them listen to their own hearts. Their eyes would always light up with awe, but he never got a response equal to four-year old David's comment.
"Being a mom means never buying the right amount of produce. Either everyone suddenly loves grapes, and a week's worth are eaten in one afternoon, or fruit flies are congregating around my rotting bananas."
Jesus: Follow me