This is my husband's favorite breakfast restaraunt. Very tiny and drab, the style is pure diner. Their customers are mostly several locals who come on a regular basis, usually for breakfast. Many of them have gotten to know each other by sight. My husband has been going here one morning a week for many years. And so has a man in his golden years, Sammy. My husband would nod at him and they would speak a few words on occasion. Every Saturday, Sammy came in with his son, and he always brought a huge tomato with him. While he waited on his breakfast order, he would take his time and make a great fuss over cutting the tomato up. Almost everyone there knew Sammy, his son, and the tomato. Last Saturday, Sammy's son came in. No Sammy. Then his grandson came in. Still no Sammy. His son took out a huge tomato, put it on the table, and they sat down and cried. I need go no further, do I, gentle reader? On his way out, my husband stopped by their table, shook their hands and gave his condolences. This is a picture of the most perfect tomato I could find. Sammy, If you're looking down, this one's for you.
One of the first things that Jesus did after he rose was cook breakfast. The king of kings cooking breakfast for his friends! "When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread...Jesus said to them "Come and have breakfast"...Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish." John 21