I've Gotta Hunch

"Mom, Mom, we brought you flowers," came the two little voices in unison. With the back door ajar, there stood Ashlyn and Brody with a fistful of gifts for their Momma. Their faces beamed as they proudly offered their gift of love to me, their small hands offering up a token of adoration.

"Thank you," I said, smiling, as they anxiously watched to see what I'd do with their gift. What's a mom to do with flowers? Why, put them in a vase of course. And it just so happened there was a small vase of fresh flowers already adorning my dining room table. Adding them directly to the center of my existing arrangement, I thanked the kids again and off they ran to play.

I looked down at the new additions to my arrangement and had a hard time seeing them for what they really were.

Weeds.



And then it hit me, this could well be the way my God, the object of my adoration, sees my relationship with Him as His child. His original creation is beautiful, as is my original floral arrangement. And then, just as my kids came along and offered their best sacrifice, I, too, come along offering the best I can. It's obvious that one is flowers and the other weeds, but the heart from which the weeds came is one of best intentions and true love.

Weeds? Indeed.

Beautiful? In the eyes of the beholder.

And I love them anyway.
And He loves me anyway.

No Need

I've got no need for the rain, rain to go away! I spent the morning doing exactly what a drizzly day calls for - making bread from scratch.

Start to finish, picturing bread making:

The bowl that needs mixing, a.k.a the job that is an arm exercise in and of itself.

Kneaded dough a.k.a another exercise, arms and shoulders this time.

Risen dough.



Dough balls ready for the pans.


Second rise completed.


The end.

Actually, that's not the end. The end occurred once I'd devoured a warm, buttered and honeyed piece of fresh bread. All that exercise left me famished.

And now, that's all she wrote.