Theologically and liturgically, I’m an Advent purist. Triumphal entries and John the Baptist, violet and rose, Gaudete and vigils make me giddy.
Don’t mix Advent with Christmas. Don’t mix Christmas with Advent. That’s what I say.
Or rather, that’s what I say about church. But, um, yeah. That all goes out the window when I get home.
I’m a sinner. It happens. Let’s keep this just between us, ok?
But Advent wreaths and pink chausibles aside, I also love Christmas cookies.
I love baking them, eating them, um, you know, like, eating them . . . eating more of them.
The bigger problem is that my sister Kellee is a master baker and cookie decorator.
I work with split infinitives and comma splices, Book of Concord citations and LSB stanzas. She decorates cookies that people fork out big bucks to eat.
Exhibit A: Kellee’s cookies
Exhibit B: My cookies
Did you catch that? Let’s go again . . . just to be sure.
I think we’re done here.
So, now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit quietly in a corner, writing and editing and, um, basically anything that doesn’t involve baking, the kitchen, or further embarrassment.
Are we good?