Life Is Like Dessert

I got a little seedling planted in my brain this morning. A little seed of another person's (Ann Voskamp, "One Thousand Gifts") thought that ripened into a bit of a reflection on life.

Life is like dessert.

Dessert is sweet. Every bite is something to enjoy. It brings joy when savored. Many recipes are made better by contrasting flavors, some less sweet than others. By adding nuts or marmalade or rhubarb, you add to the layers of flavor that make the whole more enticing.

Life is the same way. There are days that are so sweet that you couldn't ask for any little bit of them to be better. But the days that aren't quite so sweet, that have pain and struggles and sadness in them, add to the overall flavor of life as a whole. No one would want every day to be entirely comprised of hard knocks, just as no one would want to munch on plain rhubarb. But the perfect combination is the most satisfactory of all. The sun shines clearest and brightest after the darkest clouds.

Dessert is short. It is a little crown to the meal, a brief moment of exceptional sweetness. It shouldn't be wolfed down or eaten with half-attention. It's too short for that. We all want to hold onto it. Those who want more dessert are simply those who didn't savor those first bites. Seconds are simply a way of making up for that rush.

Life, too, is brief. It ends so fast. I didn't understand this as a child. The two days before Christmas seemed like an eternity. The time span between birthdays was an infinite void that wasn't able to be traversed by mere mortals. But now it goes by so fast. Too fast. One day to another, one task to another, and then, all of the sudden... it's over. We always want more life. More days. More time. Could it simply be that we didn't slow down enough to enjoy it? To really, truly experience it? To savor it? That request for more seems to be a compensation for our missing it the first time around. We want a second chance, even if we don't realize exactly what it is we missed.

Dessert isn't strictly necessary: a cook doesn't have to make dessert to complete a meal. But it is made simply for the enjoyment of those partaking in the meal. A gift given from a desire to please beyond what is strictly necessary for nourishment. It makes people happy.

Life, the gift we're given moment by moment, isn't strictly necessary either. God, in his infinite power, glory, knowledge, simplicity, being, and essence does not need to give life to anything. His being is the same as His essence. He is wholly self-sufficient, not reliant on anything outside of Himself. He lacks nothing. But yet, here we are. Each one of us, every created thing, has been given life as a free gift. It allows us to be happy. The search for happiness, which is common to all men, is made possible by the life we're given. God can only have created us for our good alone: we give nothing to Him that He does not already have. But he wanted, willed, desired to create us for our good. Our life, our existence, is not strictly necessary. But it's given to us to make us happy.

Life is like dessert.