Toast(s)

I really wish that tomorrow I could just talk about toast, instead of giving one.  I love toast.  Thick-sliced bread, toasted and covered with melting butter and jam that warms from the heat of the toast.  Crispy, thin pieces slathered in too much butter and an abundance of cinnamon-sugar, more dessert than breakfast.  Peanut butter and bananas.  Bacon, lettuce, tomato.  Cream cheese and honey.  The possibilities with toast are, apparently, endless.

And so with toasts.  Basically, in asking me to give a toast, my friend has given me open mic time at her wedding.  But what to do with it?  Tell her and her soon-to-be-husband how much we all love them?  Give them advice about marriage, something I know not very much about?  Make everybody laugh?  Make everyone cry?  I think the point of a toast is to wish people well, and I do wish them well.  I wish them love.  And joy, and peace, and patience and kindness and goodness and all the other fruits of the Spirit.  I wish that their life together would be easy and natural and good.  But I also wish that their life together would be deep and meaningful, and more often than not that means challenges will come their way.  And I know that their life together will not be painless because we live in a broken world.  Where is the place for reality in a toast?

I don't know.  And I'm so tired I'm not thinking straight.  I think I'll write the toast tomorrow, after I sleep for a while.  As for right now, I think I'll make some toast.  You know, research.  Right?