Have you ever wanted to program your husband to say the right things?
Imagine. You walk down the stairs for a coveted date night with the man of your life after spending hours choosing just the right outfit to disguise your left over baby weight. You’ve spent extra time putting on your “face,” even taking the time to Google some make-up tips and tricks. With your smoky nighttime eyes, you walk past your man looking down at your freshly painted toes, hoping he’ll notice your lids.
You twirl, pretending to look at the television, giving him a view of you from all angles.
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Three minutes and thirty seconds. That was it.
You might be more understanding if this story started with a number like three hours or even thirty minutes, but no. Three minutes and thirty seconds was all I had to wait for my waist watchers frozen dinner to cook.
But I couldn’t wait. Each second staggered and clung to the one before it, mocking my empty stomach. I walked to the pantry just to browse. There before me on the shelf at eye level was a bag of cheap-o cookies. They didn’t even look appealing but I ate one anyway. I did have that whole three minutes and thirty seconds to wait.
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“This one’s for Colin.” My daughter mumbled through the candy in her mouth and thrust a tightly gripped root beer lollipop my way. “That’s nice of you,” I bragged and pulled her free hand through the crowded halls at church to make our way towards her brother’s classroom.
I stuck my head in the door of room E-103 and motioned for my son to come. He appeared with his own small candy bag and held out one yellow, sour Skittle for his sister. I smiled at his generosity and applauded myself for teaching my children to share with each other. No one was forced to save candy for the other.
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My grandmother changed my life. Not by teaching me to crochet, although she did do that. Not by showing me how to can fig preserves or roll up cinnamon rolls, but she did that, too.
My life wasn’t changed when she taught me the value of saving pie tins, bits of fabric scraps, Cool Whip cups, the bags from the outside of the newspaper, milk jugs, or even butter tub lids. Grandmother helped to change my life with three little words.
Use me Lord.
For as long as I can remember, my grandmother got up every morning and uttered those three words to God.
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As charcoal to embers and as wood to fire, so is a quarrelsome man for kindling strife. Proverbs 26:21 NIV
“I can’t find the thing,” I spat into the phone.
“Which thing?” my husband questioned me.
“The thing. The thing! The thing that tightens the car seat!” My patience thin, I shouted into the phone while my husband tried to explain how to install my daughter’s car seat.
I hunched in the back of the van, stepping on toys and castaway cereal, heat dripping down my face, trying for the life of me to find the magical tightening strap for baby Grace’s seat.
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Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! 2 Corinthians 9:15 NIV
“Oh my! You shouldn’t have!” No really, you shouldn’t have. That silver plated moose walnut cracker from your Uncle Morris or perhaps it was the reindeer sweater with jingle bells on the antlers from your mother-in-law. All of us have been the recipient of a gift that was, shall we say, less than desirable. You’re nodding your head right now thinking of one particular gift.
And what did you do with said undesirable gift? Have you ever re-gifted? According to Wikipedia, re-gifting is the act of taking a gift that has been received and giving it to someone else, sometimes in the guise of a new gift.
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She stirs and dark lashes flutter against rosy cheeks. Not quite ready to wake, she turns over nestling her favorite pink blanket and sighs. Eyes shut. But the light beckons her to life, and she rolls onto her back.
Stretching. 
Blinking.
She takes in her surroundings, making sweets babbles as she recognizes the familiar. Seconds pass before she realizes she is awake and remembers.
Remembers to look for me.
She flips and immediately pulls upright on her crib rail, waiting.
She calls for me in a singsong babble. And waits –
-until she sees my face appear around the doorway. For a split second she freezes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry that I am there.
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We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done. Psalm 78:4 NIV
We wandered in and out of the rooms searching for treasure.
Memories.
A piece of history to carry with us.
After my grandmother’s passing, the grandchildren were invited to her house to reminisce and select special items we wanted to keep. I walked on the back porch where my grandparents used to sit on summer evenings and talk. Covered in dust was their old black phone with the rotary dial.
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