Jesus in my oven

Let me ask you this, dear friends, have you ever lost Jesus in your oven?

Or am I the only one?

One might wonder how its possible to lose Jesus in the oven, and unfortunately this is the second time I have mislaid him (first time was in the stockroom at work, a labyrinth of lost things.)

I have a fondness for wearing rosary beads with a crucifix, which I have now discovered can get caught on various implements. Door handles, ovens, chickens, ears, buttons, you get the picture.

This afternoon I decided to roast a chicken, which is usual a very simple task. But not today. Oh no.

Today, as I bent over the oven, moving the metal shelves, Jesus decided to jump ship. He was obviously bored of hanging around my neck, and was searching for pastures new.

Well, I think this Jesus is invisible or something.

I have swept, poked, and prodded every inch of the oven.. I even made a poking device. I found a lot of dust, and general grossness, but no Jesus.

I have nervously sniffed the oven, wondering if I could smell Jesus burning, but no.

I even peeled back the foil covered chicken, to check if Jesus had hidden in there, but I couldn’t spot him.

I have taken off my clothes twice, just in case he fell somewhere slightly inappropriate (this has also happened before.)

So if he turns up near you, my Jesus is about an inch tall, made out of metal and on a miniature wooden cross. He’s also from the Vatican, so maybe he converses in Italian. Actually, I suspect he’s bilingual, so that doesn’t really matter.

And so, I am anxiously praying for a miracle. The resurrection in my chicken dinner perhaps?

xxx