a flood of memories washed over me on the back steps of my sister-in-law's house.
funny how a bushel of peas and bowl can bring a rush of moments back into vivid color in your mind.
i must have been eight or nine the first time i shelled peas.
we sat in her den, watching wheel of fortune, and shelling until our fingers hurt.
when we were done, we polished our nails for church the next day.
i'm not sure what i enjoyed more.
shelling the peas or chatting with her.
my ma. a true woman of God, if you ever did meet one.
she taught me that ugly doesn't exist.
and that chicken and dumplings can make any day better.
this past saturday i shelled grace straight into the plastic bowl.
memories and peas poured forth so freely and sweet.
leaving me awe-struck over the tenderness of a Savior to give such precious gifts.
only the Giver of all things good could grace us with such sweetness in the midst of the seemingly mundane.