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Three Thoughts for Thursday

Three Thoughts for Thursday

inner goddess

  1. Do you think canned refried beans would sell better if a newly opened can didn’t look quite so much like Alpo?
  2. The packaging on my new safety razor says using it has the potential to “release my inner goddess.” I have my doubts, but promise to keep you posted on how that’s going.
  3. My definition of wonder: An 18-month-old digging in the dirt and exploring the yard on a sunny spring afternoon. Yours?
Our Grown Up Son

Our Grown Up Son

A couple weekends ago, we visited our grown up son and his grown up wife at their grown up house in Wisconsin. They showed us the sights in the area, including a visit to his new workplace.

More than once during the weekend he said, “I have a grown up job,” with wonder in his voice and a shake of his head. “I’m a grown up.”

Allen’s sense of wonder pervaded the entire visit as he and our new daughter showed us around his office, drove us through the grounds of a nearby historical site, showed us the sites in the closest city.

The wonder invaded my soul and Hiram’s too, as we sat in the kitchen and watched this lovely, grown up couple prepare meals for us.

Omelets for breakfast the first morning,
Roast chicken and scrumptious new potatoes ala Julia Child for supper,
crepes for brunch before departure the next day.

I watched them cook and saw
our baby boy on the kitchen floor banging on pots and pans with a wooden spoon,
our preschooler sitting on the counter to peer at what was in the mixing bowl,
our kindergartener standing on a char, “helping” crack eggs (and eggshells) into a bowl,
our 7-year-old learning to make Kraft Macaroni and Cheese all by himself,
our middle schooler baking cookies,
our high schooler sliding frozen pizza into the oven,
our monk baking bread in the monastery kitchen,
our farm hand showing me how to stir fry kale,
our son and new daughter cooking for us three lovely meals.

The wonder hovered round us all that weekend. It was in the car as we drove away. It’s been in my smile and Hiram’s each day since we’ve been home. It wells up inside me and flows down my cheeks as I write. It lulls me to sleep each evening and greets me when the alarm clock rings each morning.

Our son is grown up.
He’s married to a grown up wife.
He lives in a grown up house.
He has a grown up job.
He cooks grown up meals.

In wonder, we bow and give thanks for what God has done.