Spoon poised, half way between the bowl and my mouth, I mentally map the location of each of the children.
Dark and gooey, a few globs of brownie mix are deliberately left on the spoon. They beckon me. But it wouldn’t be right. It just wouldn’t do for me, the mom, to lick the spoon. Not when there are children in the house.
Hm. Who is closest to the kitchen? Who got the spoon last time? And the bowl? Should one get both or should two share them?
Oh boy, does it ever look good. They’ll never know, will they, if I lap up these tiny, insignificant remains? But a good mommy doesn’t do that. A good mommy always lets the child lick the spoon.
I really want to be a good mommy.
I sigh, resigned, and call out to the one I’ve decided on. Such power I have.
My sacrifice is rewarded when a bouncy, happy boy comes rushing in to take the bowl and spoon. “Thank you, Mommy!”
Spoon poised, half way between the bowl and my mouth, I mentally map the location of each of the children: Missouri, Germany, Romania, the Persian Gulf and Florida and locations between.
Dark and gooey, a few globs of brownie mix are deliberately left on the spoon. They beckon me. May I? Is it really okay? It’s finally my turn?!
Hmmm. What’s this wetness on my cheek? It’s not brownie batter.
I drop the spoon back into the bowl and ponder.
I’ll make a cup of coffee to go with it.
In this season, I have the time and energy to revisit lessons, exhortations and encouragements from the past. God, in His faithfulness and mercy, had prepared a feast for me back then. In the hectic years, I sampled the delights of His table in passing. He nourished me with renewed strength and courage. He provided absolutely everything I needed for life and godliness in each situation and circumstance.
I pause to consider this.
My days are no longer hectic…
I will not only lick the spoon, but scrape the bowl!
I have rejoiced in the way of Your testimonies,
as much as in all riches.