It’s the smell that lingers, and has the most evocative effect. Not the pop, not the stream of stringy paper tissue, or the surprise on the recipient’s face. It’s the gunpowder, the hint of fireworks from childhood, the teasing nature of it tugging on memories, and then the aroma is gone.
But it is a sensory experience. You struggle to put it into words. To get what I’m trying to say, you’ve got to have been affected by something similar, and what I say evokes those memories.
It’s how communion works. Something we engage in that evokes what being welcome around Jesus’ table means to us personally. And re-releases the truth about who He is in our lives.
Must remember to get some when I re-stock on the bread.