Cream in a Can

It’s a very rare treat and one we don’t get very often, but when it comes our way Juniper and Fern go big-eyed with a mix of wonder and unashamed greed. Cream in a can.

We’re almost up to our second one now. They love to swirl it onto hot chocolates, crown ice-cream with it, add it to any dessert within reach… or, when they think I’m not looking, spray it straight into their gobs and dissolve into giggles.

There’s something wonderfully unrestrained about it. No moderation. No saving it for later. Just pure delight, taken seriously.

And I find myself smiling at how rarely we allow ourselves that kind of joy.

We’re so practiced at rationing good things. Spreading them thin. Keeping delight sensible and contained. But Advent doesn’t seem to work that way. It arrives like cream in a can, extravagant and unexpected, insisting on being enjoyed now.

God doesn’t trickle joy politely into our lives. He pours it. He crowns the ordinary. He turns a simple moment into something memorable and says, Go on. Enjoy it.

Maybe that’s part of what this season invites us into. Not restraint, but reception. Not control, but delight. To let joy be generous, even a little ridiculous.

So for now, we swirl the cream.
We laugh at the mess.
We don’t save it for a more deserving moment.

Because sometimes grace tastes best when taken with wide eyes, sticky fingers, and absolutely no shame.