Sometimes on Sundays I do not go to church in the morning because I am tired. I set my alarm, I wake up with every intention of going, and then I often fall back asleep. Sometimes I feel guilty about it. It can feel as though I'm not making time for God when God has so purposefully always made time for me.

Last Sunday evening I went to the theatre department's Christmas Party, which we lovingly call "Santa Bread." The Christmas Party is called Santa Bread because the main event is the decorating and baking of a pan of bread in the shape of Santa's face. Each year around this time we all pile into cars and drive through the winter snow to our friend, Kenny's house in Jenison for a Christmas celebration with food and friends. Kenny's angelic mother greets us at the door with a hug and a welcoming smile. We greet our friends from near and far with comments about gaudy sweaters and homemade vests. Ladles of real hot chocolate and homemade soup warm us from the inside out.

This year was no different. I was so happy to catch up with alumni who I had not seen for a while, and to share this tradition with those who have been there from its beginning. It might sound as cheesy as the potato soup, but I was filled up with love in that moment.

I think our department shares a bond unlike any other. We are so lucky to get to be artists together, but we are blessed beyond belief to get to be family together. I know that no matter where I go, God has given me this bunch of weirdos, this haven of eccentric theatre lovers in which to belong. We were created in the image of a Creator, and God has orchestrated us being in the same place at the same time, creating for God's own glory.

As the Santa Bread came out of the oven, we all gathered around for our photo. Kenny's mom directed everybody to come in close and smile. When the photo was done, there was a short silence before someone asked, "Can we eat it?" To which the reply was, "Yes! Eat!"

Many of the people I love the most reached inward and tore off a chunk of Santa's face which we had constructed together. As I held a warm piece of bread in one hand and a holiday themed paper cup of grape juice in the other, I think I heard God say,

"This too, my love, is holy. This too is my body broken for you."