poetry • art • marriage • momhood • faith

Jesus in my Chocolate Milk

I’m not crazy. I’m serious. (Ok, well maybe I’m a little crazy.)

Ok, so, last night, my 3-year-old wanted chocolate milk with dinner. I conceded, since he’d already eaten well and, well, I wanted some chocolate milk too. So I poured the milk, doled out the Nesquik, and stirred it up.

When drinking tea or chocolate milk, I have a habit of swirling my cup in between swigs, so as to avoid leaving the good stuff settled on the bottom. It was after such a swirl stopped, once I had drunk about half the cup, that I saw it: a tiny 3/4 view face, perfectly rendered. I thought, “cool” and grabbed the camera.

Unfortunately, my camera wouldn’t let me get a clear shot.

But then, when I was reviewing the shots on my camera, I saw something, someone else:

Jesus in my cup.

“Jesus?” you ask, skeptically. Of course it’s Jesus. It’s always Jesus or Mary who show up in the most unsuspecting of places, right? On a cheese sandwich. In an oil slick… why not in a cup of chocolate milk?

Then I took another look: I saw a lion in there too.

I got goosebumps.

Interestingly enough, the tiny face, Jesus, and the lion all share portions of their faces. Whoa. Trinity much.

I know, you all think I’m nuts, right?

Check it out for yourself and tell me what you think.

I’m attaching the original photo; all I’ve done is bumped up the contrast for clarity. Hopefully I’ll be able to point out the stuff as I see it later.

Your local Symbol Seeker,

Julie

PS – for another thread, but before I forget. I watched The Number 23 the other night and the bonus features in the wee hours this morning. I figured out my numbers… My “Life Path” number is 7. I think that’s freaky. Especially since I generally don’t buy into numerology, astrology, feng shui, ect.

1 Comment

  1. Manville Manville
    November 11, 2008    

    wow it could happen

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torch bearing quietly

I will not act out, will not
yell or curse or slam doors,
will not make a scene -- you
do not deserve such a chance
to make an example out of me
to be proven right since you
are not. Instead, I'll stand
at this street corner, raise
my hand high and clench that
light which yet remains. It
will burn brightly, quietly,
fiercely before fading as I.

Then I'll be gone but found.

©JAC 2005

Poetry by Julie Ann Cook!

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Love Like Weeds
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