When I made my pumpkin pie this year, I saved back a little square of crust. I sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar before sliding it into the oven. Before long, my kitchen began smelling like Grandma's house.
Although I hold fast to the promise that I will see her again, oh, how I miss hearing her say, "Hello, dear" before she hugged me close.
We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blessed;
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds. (James 1:2)
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Unconditional
My parents came for a visit over the weekend. They arrived with the usual items in their luggage: pictures from their latest trip (beautiful Venice this time), newspaper articles of interest, a loaf of homemade bread, and other assorted little treasures.
Ah, but they were also accompanied by those things less tangible. They arrived bearing a warm embrace and the transparent joy of being here. They brought a fresh energy, and breathed new life into our little home. My shoulders immediately felt lighter.
The only time my gas tank is full is after a visit from my parents. My dad somehow finds a way to quietly slip away to fill it to the brim. My mom works some kind of magic on my kitchen sink with Comet cleaner and an ordinary sponge. Before I can realize our toilet paper is running low, Dad walks into the house with an 18 pack of double rolls. We are likely set for toilet paper until Christmas.
Besides lifting some of the physical load, my parents buoy my spirits. They offer encouragement and advice on both mundane and overwhelming issues. They play tirelessly with Eli and make Jason laugh. Since Mom and I are both insomniacs, we share late night chats. She often thinks of something she forgot to tell me, and knocks on our bedroom door. Last night after she told me "one last thing" and left our room, Jason whispered, "She'll be back."
Today Mom told me that Glen Campbell was diagnosed with Alzheimer's earlier this year. He was one of our favorites when I was growing up. Mom and I would listen to him in the kitchen while we ate tomato soup. She told me this afternoon that she especially enjoys his song titled "Unconditional Love". I feel this song aptly describes my mom and dad. I'm grateful every day that God blessed me with such loving parents.
Ah, but they were also accompanied by those things less tangible. They arrived bearing a warm embrace and the transparent joy of being here. They brought a fresh energy, and breathed new life into our little home. My shoulders immediately felt lighter.
The only time my gas tank is full is after a visit from my parents. My dad somehow finds a way to quietly slip away to fill it to the brim. My mom works some kind of magic on my kitchen sink with Comet cleaner and an ordinary sponge. Before I can realize our toilet paper is running low, Dad walks into the house with an 18 pack of double rolls. We are likely set for toilet paper until Christmas.
Besides lifting some of the physical load, my parents buoy my spirits. They offer encouragement and advice on both mundane and overwhelming issues. They play tirelessly with Eli and make Jason laugh. Since Mom and I are both insomniacs, we share late night chats. She often thinks of something she forgot to tell me, and knocks on our bedroom door. Last night after she told me "one last thing" and left our room, Jason whispered, "She'll be back."
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