I Just Want A Cup Of Coffee

The dreaded annual "well woman" exam happened this week.

GROAN.

After being directed to the nearest porcelain throne room to provide my annual "sample," the nurse instructed me to await the cup that she'd be passing through the tiny door on her side, which would "magically" appear when I opened the tiny door on my side.

Casually, I flung open the segue to this feminine passage of all things secret. Ok, it's just a holding area for urine samples. But, anyway...

What I found was not your typical medical-grade, clear plastic cup with a lid that fits securely on top.

Sitting behind Door #1 was what looked like a kid-sized, Starbucks-type coffee cup. It seemed a bit odd to me, so I did what any self-respecting coffee lover would do.

I put it back, knocked on the little door, and yelled...

"I ordered a VENTI!"
Ok, no, I really didn't. But, I truly hope you are laughing at this point. I sure was. Now, the only thing that stood between me and…

"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?"
—Matthew 6:26 (ESV)
It's LENT... admittedly, something I know little about. I know that it is basically an anticipation of the celebration of Christ's resurrection. It begins with Ash Wednesday. In some branches of Christianity the beginning is marked on one's forehead with literal ashes in the shape of a cross.
Some give up something. Others joke about giving up something. Still others decide to sit back and remain. 
I personally don't believe one act is more holy than the other.
As my husband and I recently discussed, any work outside of the finished work of Christ falls far short of God's perfection. 
Doing works as an act of thanksgiving to the Lord out of a heart that is grateful for His perfect sacrifice? Great. 
Not doing them? His work on our behalf is still finished and complete for those who ackn…

I've said it since the day my children were born, and I said it again as I drove down the highway...

We are in the sweet spot of the watermelon.
What I mean by that is that I believe, from the age of about five until our children enter into their teenage years, there's a sweet, precious timespan of childhood memories, antics, sayings, mishaps, etc. that occur. And, lest I blink, I will miss the opportunity to take hold of it, embrace it, guard it, nay savor it!

I'm not a watermelon fan (ironically); however, I've had enough of it to know that if you stand in line for the first slice, it will usually come from one of the sides. The piece will be semi-sweet and slightly whitish, perhaps even bland-like. Yet, if you wait a bit, typically folks will delve into what is known as the "sweet spot." That area of the fruit that yields the sweetest, most colorful and flavorful of its givings.

I don't know why I have stuck with this particular reference over the years…