The Day I Turn into a Pig
It happened again. I turned into a pig on Chinese New Year’s eve.
There were endless choices of food in possibly the biggest buffet array in this country that even a perpetual dieter like me can cave in with a one-sentence excuse, “It’s only once a year.”
Tony’s side of the family usually celebrates the Lunar New Year in a place where one hotel floor has nothing but food and one special room is reserved for cheeses and tapas. That room alone can make one forget food resolves and doctors’ admonitions. So I snort.
“Skip the Chinese dishes,” advised third son, JR. “Or you won’t have enough space for the rarities.”
The rarities were foie gras, lobsters, fresh oysters, abalones, and sea treasures one hardly gets to see on her own dining table.
Even with zero Chinese food on Chinese New year, however, my plate was overly full many times over.
These calorie overloads were polished off over sporadic conversations with relatives who speak more Chinese than languages familiar to my ears; elaborate dragons in various colors weaving in and out of our room; red lanterns; red beverages; and a fortune cookie that read:
A pig I might have turned into, but my human mind had been able to ponder that statement. It revised it to:
“The first step to better times is grace.”
Despite the glorious food and loving relatives on New Year’s eve, no imagination can conjure better or bad times. We can imagine all we want, but it is His will that prevails. And to those who believe, better times beyond this life await them.
On that note, I concentrated on pigging out.
“This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” 2 Corinthians 5:17