Stumbling Towards Perfect

I was young, maybe 7, maybe 10, when I saw my grandfather jump over a fence and rush to a cow that was lying on her side, bellering out in pain. The cow had been in labor for a while but now something was wrong. I stood tiptoe on the bottom rung of the gate, studying intently the wild eyes of the mama cow, like she was pleading with me to help her - but I was just a kid. I didn't know what to do. The truth was, there was nothing I could do . I watched as grandpa took baler twine and tied it around two small hooves sticking out of the mother. I watched as my grandfather kicked the mama cow. Kicked her hard. And he kept kicking as she struggled to her knees, hollering in pain as she reluctantly made her way standing. I watched as my grandfather started pulling on that twine. Pulling hard. Pulling hard on little legs sticking out - "NO! STOP!" I screamed. "YOU'RE HURTING HER!" I became so angry at my grandfather. Hating him for what he was doing - y

There are times when I open my food pantry and all I see is nothing. Nothing worthwhile, I mean. Sitting on the shelves are boxes of rice, packets of chili seasoning, a couple half-filled boxes of Hot Chocolate packets. An old box of cereal waits for someone to finally roll down the liner. Crumbs in a potato chip bag that don't amount to anything wait for someone to throw them away. I open the door and get quickly discouraged. So, I shut the door. And yet, I can walk to that same door, open it and see shelves stocked with delicious goodness! Spaghetti sauces and brownie mixes. A bag of plump potatoes and onions as big as my head. Cajun spices that make everything taste better. Same pantry. Same door. Different vision. It's what I choose to look at. It's what I choose to see. Sometimes, life gets the better of me. All I see is the crumbs. All I see is the outdated crap that should be tossed away and yet I can't seem to figure out how to trash it. Yet, at ot

Photo by asenat29/Jonathan Lim Yong Hian  via Flickr Creative Commons It makes me sad when I hear someone say they don't have any special skills or talents. I believe with every fiber of my being that every single person brought to earth holds something special inside them, given as a special gift from God. I mean, do you really expect me to believe that God is busy passing out all these special unique qualities to everyone but forgot about you? Or suddenly had a brain freeze and couldn't think of one single thing to give to you? Trust me. You have special talents. I think just like when we try to find the special gift to make a birthday special, or an anniversary gift reflect the love we hold in our hearts for another, or a special something to show the appreciation we feel for someone - God showers us with gifts to show His love for us. And I think He really wants us to use our gifts to honor Him and help others. It's His way of saying, "Here. Take this. I k

It was Valentine's Day today. Brody had to bring Valentine's for his class. He's in 3k. I bought them last night. It hurt. You see, Avery was my girl! She was organized and thoughtful and sensitive and all those things totaled a well thought out plan to be executed in advance. She would have come to me weeks ago with an idea. More than likely a very detailed plan that would require a lot of hard work. And she would have had a list of people to bring Valentine's to. Friends, teachers, bus drivers, the mailman, people down the street she saw one time getting into their car that she felt called to give something to so no amount of persuasion would convince her otherwise. Because that's what she did. She loved on people whether she knew them or not. And I would have been somewhat embarrassed because I wouldn't know what to do with all that kindness and compassion, but I'd give in anyway and do it her way. And a part of me would think I don't want to be a