On the Drinking of a Surprise Beer

A couple months ago, my wife and I were in Winnipeg, which, as some of you are aware, is the only city worth mentioning in Manitoba. (Let's put it this way: it's roughly 15x bigger than the second largest city in the province!) We stopped in at a Liquor Mart, since Kelly wanted to get some Almond Cream type stuff. While there, Kelly happened upon some Duvel, a Belgian beer which is no longer imported to Manitoba due to low sales volume. But let me say that, low sales volume or not, there is nothing wrong with this beer. It is easily my favourite.

So I bought four bottles, at about $3 each (did I mention that this was imported beer?) and brought them home. They were put in the fridge, and, as far as I could remember, consumed gladly and with great enjoyment.

Last night, Kelly asked me to help clean out the fridge. While cleaning out, I saw a short, stubby brown bottle hiding in behind a jar of pickles... and there it was. The Final Duvel. You could ask Kelly about this, but I was all smiles. Not only had my curling team won our match with a steal of four in the final end, but now, a surprise beer. Not some cheap or lousy beer, either, but the best beer.

I'm resisting the urge to turn this into an analogy, but I'll let you do that for yourselves. As for me, I did what was proper. I opened the beer and enjoyed it, enjoyed it greatly, as only the finding of a surprise beer, a good beer that was lost but had been found, can be enjoyed. If anything, it tasted richer and fuller and better than ever (and yes, I checked the expiry on the bottle and it was still fine).

I'm sure that beer was good for me. Other than a little bit of a nagging cough, I feel much more alive today than I have in a few. Thanks be to God for His gifts of barley, hops, and yeast!