Over the past year or so I’ve developed a pretty serious thing for breakfast tacos. In Dallas there are about a million options: Tacos y Mas, Velvet Taco, Come Taco, Urban Taco, Torchy’s Tacos, etc. etc. But while most (if not all) of these little shops offer tons of options with exciting ingredients and creamy sauces with cute little names, I am convinced that none can compare to a bacon, egg, and cheese taco from Rusty Taco.
As I write this I am sitting in my oversized arm-chair, buried in a blanket because it’s finally fall outside and I don’t know how to work the heat in this house, drinking Brazilian coffee that I think I made a little too strong, savoring the greasy goodness of a bacon, egg, and cheese taco from Rusty’s, and thinking about how much better life is because of crispy bacon and farm fresh eggs and tortillas with grease soaking through them holding it all together.
The first time I ever had one was last December. My roommate has a friend named Jeremy who owns a tacky Christmas sweater shop here in Dallas. Jeremy is about 6’5″, skinny as a rail, and has a beautiful wife named Kelsey who is now pregnant with their second child. Keila and I now live just a few houses down from them. But last December he was just a somewhat distant friend with a tacky Christmas sweater shop that was filming a commercial for the holiday season and needed back up dancers. To this day I am not sure how Keila convinced me to go. But on a Saturday morning she and I found ourselves learning a choreographed dance to a song about Christmas sweaters and trying not to laugh at the giant gingerbread man who kept walking into the shot. I danced next to Jeremy’s grandmother. She was tiny and beautiful and never did quite learn the words or the dance.
After we finished filming Kelsey handed out breakfast tacos from Rusty’s as a “thank you” for our help. We all sat in a circle on the floor of the shop, wearing horribly ugly green and red sweaters talking about babies and holidays and camera angles while spilling salsa and scrambled eggs all over ourselves. And thus began my love for breakfast tacos.
A few months ago my friend JD was driving through Dallas on his way back to Austin and took me out for tacos and beer. We talked about relationships and which beers we liked best and how he was about to move to England to play professional basketball like he’d dreamt about his entire life. There were black beans and crumbles of bacon on the table as we left and I was full and grateful for a friend who could ask about my dad and then immediately turn on Usher in the car so I wouldn’t feel silly for crying.
And then a week ago today I went for a long walk at the lake with my very best friend and I cried to her about things that are hard. It was the weekend of the last summer surge and it was 90 degrees outside so fat tears and salty sweat swam together into a giant, mascara-massacring mess. When we got back to the car we prayed and talked about how thankful we were for friendships that let you be weepy and scared and fragile when your heart feels like it could snap. And then we went and got tacos. And we talked about her boyfriend and the date they were going on that night. And I tried to keep cool because I knew he was going to ask her to marry him that day. And I stared at my taco as she discussed what she should wear. And I felt swollen with an awareness of God’s goodness to us.
Today we found her a wedding dress. And JD is playing basketball in England. And Kelsey is expecting her new baby.
Today Jeremy is getting ready for another Christmas season at the tacky Christmas sweater store.
Today God’s sovereign plan continues to intertwine and weave and dip as he draws us further into communion with him and one day closer to his return.
But even so, today I cried about things that are hard. Today I felt weepy and scared and fragile. Today my heart felt like it could snap.
So I went for a run and then went and got two bacon, egg, and cheese tacos as a mid-afternoon snack because I could. And I crawled under this blanket and thought of all these memories and felt a little lighter and a little more whole. Because God has worked all of those stories and all of those relationships and all of those childhood dreams into his beautiful and staggering plan of redemption. And because when you’ve yet to find the harbor in the tempest you have to fight like hell to remember these things.
Today its 55 degrees and finally feels like fall and people just seem nicer when they have scarves and hot drinks from coffee shops and little red noses from the cold.
Today I get to read a book that I borrowed from a new friend and drink wine and feel cold and weepy and swollen with God’s grace because I get to be a human and feel the ripeness of life.
And today I have yet to find the harbor. But I have the gift of feeling the depths of the storm and of fighting like hell to remember what is true – that God is sovereign and good and that grace is real and abundant.
And that breakfast tacos are so damn good.