Saturday, June 20, 2009

Thanks Berry Much

I have been feeling domestic. Not quite Martha Stewart, but enough to actually use my strainer and dug out the metal ladle. We planted 3 strawberry plants about 3 years ago. Amazing how they have grown teeth and have become territorial in the north end of my small garden. While they have choked out the near by 'want to bes', the green leaved beauties have produced a wonderful bounty.

I was hoping for enough berries to make at least one batch of jam. As I stood back and admired my stack of 4 completed jam products, I was content.

Three days later, to my astonishment the once pink fruit now smiled at me with a deep red readiness. I again, maneuvered fashionably about in the kitchen.

Today, a couple of days following, I stood in the garden while the liquid Oregon sunshine drip down my back, I picked yet MORE strawberries. The finished jam sits proudly on the counter. As I was smashing the plump berries, my mind went to the loaves and fishes from Matthew chapter 14. The mental picture was that of Jesus looking up to heaven, giving thanks, and breaks the bread along with the fish which feeds 5,000 men (this NOT including the women and children).

Oh, I may not feed an arena sized group, but a 16 year old boy can account for much of that, with a steady attempt by the 10 year old as well. I smile as I gave thanks for the berries that totally surprised me. God is so good at decadent delightful displays of His love.

Thanks berry much Lord!

~ DeDe

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

A Sick Mind

I have heard the statement, "A clean desk is a sign of a sick mind." Well, I really should be hospitalized! I have been going from room to room, THOROUGHLY cleaning. As I approached my desk, I knew the job was going to be a dandy. It took quite a while, and a filled garbage bag later ... it is clean, C-L-E-A-N I tell you!

I can now find a pencil, the yellow highlighter, AND one of many pads of paper. Paper clips are all tucked in. Oh, the doors to the shelves actually shuts. My poor mouse now has room to roam on the pad. Life is good for that electrical rodent.
Now, (taking a DEEP breath) on to my sons room.
~ DeDe

Monday, June 8, 2009

Straining 4 the Finish Line

Schools out for summer! So the song goes. As I go about my normal routine, or attempt to, my youngest son asks me to play Playstation with him. Hm... this could be a nice break from scrubbing the bathroom floor. As I meander on over, I tell him 'build me a car and lets do this', knowing his game of choice would be 'Need for Speed'.

Handing me the controller which I find to be completely foreign to the touch, he begins the technical instructions: gas, stop, turn, back up. I thought, "I can do this, how difficult can it be to race through town."

The count down. 3 - 2 WAIT! "which car am I again??" "The Y-E-L-L-O-W one mom!" he says with exhausted breath like I had asked what came after the letter A or something.

Eyes fixed on the yellow sports car, controller in hand, the light turns green. He spins off with high speed screeching. Me, NOTHING. Not a thing! Exasperated, I begin to push ALLLLL the buttons. Now I am moving. Which button did it? I have no clue, but I am going... going... speeding ... straight for the cement WALL! Attempting to turn, sparks spraying in all directions, I hug that wall tighter than a jockey atop a race horse. Looking confidently as my son begins to laugh at the mishap, I steadily told him, "I wanted racing stripes on my car, now I have it."

Continuing with the race, a guttural laugh begins within me, soon turning to an uncontrollable hysterical roar, now unable to maneuver my vehicle at all, I aim somewhat for the street signs, asking my son if I get points for those. "Um.... no mom." "What?" I declare. "THAT was a perfect hit!"

When I FINALLY reach the finish line, my son passing me in a flash of glory, the screen flashes 'RACE OVER'. It is then that I am compelled to kindly return the controller to the 10 year old.

As I return to the cleaning of the floors, my thoughts go to Paul, as he says in Philippians "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." I give a little chuckle, how is it that I KNOW Paul was not referring to racing through town via a hand held controller straining for the finish line. But it humors me to think so. And straining I was.

~ DeDe