Breakfast IS the most important meal of the day.

A little while ago, I made Max a couple of blueberry waffles. I put them on a plate for him, and went to get him so he could get his breakfast. Every time I tried to tell him that his breakfast was ready, he ran away from me. I could barely get out his name good and off he went.

From one room to another. From one side of the house to the other. I finally got close enough to see that he had grabbed my phone and he was trying to hold on to it. He was missing his breakfast, something he needed, something which would nourish him, help him on his journey, to hold on to something that was not even his to hold on to. As a matter of fact, it was pretty useless to him.

How many times do I pass up refreshment, nourishment, that very thing I need, just to grasp at things that aren’t for me?  How many rooms does God have to run through to tell me to come and get my blueberry waffles?