As mentioned in my post about making my first fudge, I have a bit of a history with the yummy stuff, which may be what kept me from attempting to make it for myself all these years.....here's the story........
Ever so quietly I reached my skinny little eight-year-old arm deep into the back of our linen closet and found what I desired most. Cold, crackly foil. Under the foil were pans and pans of wonderful chocolate fudge. My mom began her Christmas baking early in the month and knew that in order to have any goodies by the special day; she would need to hide it somewhere safe from our little hands.
What can I say? I don’t recall how I found my favorite brown nutty treat in among the towels and sheets, but once I discovered the secret place, I returned there very often. I only took a couple pieces at a time and then had to stick it in my pocket until I found a spot to enjoy it by myself with no danger of little brother or sister following and telling mom.
The only problem with my system, other than the crumbs in my pockets, is that I never actually looked at the pans. I just let my fingers grab a few chunks of candy at a time. It felt like a never-ending secret supply at my finger tips. Well, I guess the other snag in the growing addiction was finding a place to eat the forbidden treat. Sitting in the dog yard behind our house was really not the most pleasant place to savor my stolen fudge. My dog was my best secret keeper though.
Chocolate has been my weakness for as long as I can remember. I even shared cocoa powder with my goldfish when I was under three. They actually survived, but coughed up little brown clouds for several days!
My eighth Christmas Eve did not have a happy ending. When my mom pulled her carefully prepared pans of fudge from the linen closet, they were strangely light. I had eaten almost all her supply of Christmas fudge and she was not happy. Her punishment was perfect; in a house where every flat surface held a fancy dish of candy, bread, pie or cookies, I was not allowed to have any kind of sweets all of Christmas Day!
I used to think of my sweetest times of worshiping God as a taste of forbidden dessert meant to be saved for later; only to be enjoyed after a soul searching time of travailing prayer. Only after confessing everything I could think of and praying all the way down my prayer list; then and only then was it okay to wallow in the love of God for an extended time. The intimate, exhilarating moments of abandoned worship were the sweet dessert after the prayer work was done.
And again; what can I say? I was wrong! God offers me a never-ending secret supply of His sweet presence, in the closet or out of the closet...where ever, whenever! Now my intimate times with Him are powerful times of wonderment and warfare, tearful and ticklish, happy and heavy. Now…I eat dessert first!