Feeling Yellow…

Sometimes an opening sentence will not come to me. It is evening, on the Lord’s Day (and yes, I know they are all His), my Littles are in bed, my Handsome Man is studying for his firefighter test on Wednesday, and my house is tidied. I just finished washing dishes. The last dish to be washed was my yellow bowl. This is what I want to muse about. My yellow bowl.

I make all my scones in it, eat all my popcorn from it, and generally look upon it with fondness. It was my Grandmother’s bowl, and I got it from her kitchen after she passed.

I have a few things of hers: a brown leather coat, a volume of Shakespeare, and a middle name….which I gave to one of my daughters….maybe I will give the bowl to the other one. Every time I wash this particular bowl, I am flooded with memories. She made delicious peanut butter cookies in this bowl. This very same bowl that I serve others out of is a reminder to me of her selfless love for others. The examples of this are too many to mention.

Not only did she sacrificially serve her husband and children for over half a century, but they never heard her say anything negative about anyone. Can you think upon that for a moment? Those closest to her, the ones who knew all her flaws, preferences, foibles, and virtues mentioned this when describing her. She never said a bad word about anyone. She never spoke ill of even deserving persons to me, and on occasion would gently correct anything disrespectful I said.

Tonight I miss her, and washing that yellow bowl encouraged me to love my family, and to speak kindly of others. Good Night!