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Fundamentally there are two types of bacon in this world.  If you’re my husband you refer to these bacon varieties as real and fake.  If you’re actually looking in the grocery store they are more commonly known as uncooked bacon and pre-cooked, microwavable bacon.

In the early part of my adult life the microwavable version was my go to bacon of choice.  I mean cooking real bacon involves grease spattering all over my stove, grease spilling as I drain it into a jar for “easy” disposal, and most importantly it takes a long stinking time and a watchful eye to make sure the fat melts and doesn’t burn the meat in the process.

It’s Saturday morning folks…the WEEKEND…this is too much work, am I right?  But when you fall in love with a tall, blue-eyed purist whom you vowed (literally) to place first in your life forever and ever it will suddenly hit you as it did me.  I have to make real bacon the rest of my life.

At this stage in my mental melodrama I considered objections ranging from “it’s so unhealthy, we should only eat bacon once a year” to “it’s 2015, not 1955, haven’t you read The Feminine Mystique?!”  Granted, none of these objections are actually verbalized, but I have nevertheless been a bit surly when the bacon starts to sizzle.

And then it hits me.  Serving the bacon, the real bacon is a weekly opportunity for me display great love.  “Not all of us can do great things.  But we can do small things with great love.”  Mother Teresa’s quote always makes me immediately think of the Fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  

I’d been denying myself and my husband a weekly serving of fruit by grumbling over the silly bacon.  “For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.”  While I’m sure Galatians 5:13 was directed at other more monumental actions that do not include a modern housewife’s epiphany regarding a breakfast dish, it makes me realize that the seemingly small acts of love that I engage in at home, work, or anywhere are small acts that can reflect great love.

1 Peter 10 says “Each one should use whatever gift she has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.”  I can genuinely say that on most days, for most recipes I truly enjoy cooking for my husband, family and friends.  It’s not epic, it’s not earth-shattering, but it’s an act of love that I can use to reflect God’s grace to those most important to me.

I clearly recognize that my internal bacon temper tantrum may not be a big deal, but what makes me pause  is that I don’t just grumble about bacon.  I grumble about a lot of things.  How quickly I forget that the minor annoyances of life still come in my God-given life.  How many servings of fruit am I missing?  How many servings of fruit am I keeping from those I love?

Every act of love has a purpose, every act of love is a part of His plan.

I forgot to buy the bacon this week.  Jesse volunteered to go to the store and buy a package this morning while I prepped the pancakes and eggs.  Then a wonderfully small act of great love took place; my husband made the bacon and the fruit has never tasted so good.

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