I used to work in a cafe in a college town in central Maine, barely making rent for my apartment on the wrong side of town. I couldn’t afford to drink the coffee, and I certainly didn’t eat the food. I longingly inhaled the aroma of the soul-food restaurant I walked past, and every cent that didn’t get spent on bills went straight to the till of the used CD store. One day at work my fellow workers and I discovered that the twenty-dollar chocolate tart was past it’s expiration date, and couldn’t be sold. We enthusiastically gathered around the formerly forbidden delicacy, and passed around the silver server, triumphantly laying a slice on our plates, and took that first coveted bite. Never has disappointment set in so quickly. If you have never tasted mold, I wouldn’t recommend it. Desserts are not eternal.

I remembered this unfortunate event the other day when I found myself brooding around the house and I wasn’t sure why, until I remembered the main characters on the TV show I had been watching were fighting. It’s silly, now that I realize, that I’m not immune to the subtle influences of what I feed on. The Mold had worked its way in. Philippians 4:8 is no trifle (see what I did there?). If we consume anger, or hatred, or bad attitudes, or bickering, we will surely become full of them. This is especially easy to do in our modern world.

I’m looking forward to spring, to planting a garden, to reading in the sunshine, and hiking in the woods, consuming the beauty around us, and hopefully, by default, there won’t be any room left for moody winter blues. If your year is starting to feel gloomy, it may be time to put out a feast of good things.