What an egg-cellent Creator we have
It’s crazy when you really put some thought to it. I’m thinking about some of the foods we eat. It’s mind-boggling!
Consider the egg. The outer, oval covering is a thin shell — nonedible, but how do we know that? Could it be ground into fine powder or chopped fine to put a crunch in a food topping?
I won’t be the one to experiment, but the inside of the egg gets more interesting. Crack its fragile casing and a slimy gook with one yellowish, red eyeball plops out. How do I describe it? Lovely? No. Fragrant? No. Interesting? Yes.
There’s no way to verify, but I wish I knew what human from what part of the globe cracked open the first egg and decided to eat it. Was it consumed raw? Did the human suggest boiling it or frying it over-easy?
It had to have taken a brave or starving individual to add an egg to his or her menu the first time. Did they know where it came from? That’s another “side road” that adds interest to the edible egg.
Who was the first to add it to corn meal and milk to make it a part of corn bread? Who figured out that eggs in sweets added structure and moisture? What genius played with them and first separated the yolk from the white? And why?
Eggs aren’t the only odd food. Anytime I cook spinach or mustard greens, I wonder who was the first to try cooking leaves. Did they just experiment with those two selections? Who would be brave enough to be the leaf-tester?
How do we know there aren’t other edibles growing around us? We have sweet gum trees in the yard with nice tender leaves. Wonder how they would taste with a little bacon grease? There are pine needles galore. Could they be full of nutrients just waiting to be chopped with some honey to fill a fried pie?
There is a multiplicity of observations to be made about the food we eat. Wouldn’t a thoughtful examination of just a few of them establish the certainty of a Creator? Who needs a library of science books when evidence comes packed in a crate in the grocery? For me, simply cracking an egg into a breakfast skillet can initiate my humming “How Great Thou Art.”
Letters to Camille Anding can be sent to P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS, 39602, or e-mailed to email@example.com.