My kitchen is not the most beautiful nor is it the most functional, but it's mine and the time I have spent puttering around it makes me happy. As I get older I realize very few things in life will continue to stay the same, but my kitchen is someplace I share with every one of my children and, Lord-willing, will share with my grandchildren.The flour is always tucked away and can be pulled out to whip up some rolls or cookies,
and the chocolate milk is kept on hand for the hurt feelings that roam through my kitchen. The hot chocolate too, for those days when they come in from feeding the chickens with cold cheeks and noses.
The heat from the oven spilling out to warm the place I seem to spend most of my time. The fridge is never clean and the floor is always dirty but it's the place my feet really touch the ground.
In my kitchen I cover them with love with the food I make.
I warm their bones or delight their tummies. I give the girls a passion for feeding those God has entrusted us with and a passion for their future husbands and children.When their daddy comes home he will have a warm, special meal on the table waiting for him. It's not fancy, the meal is simple and economical, but it's always an experience. New candles, a bunch of wild flowers, and the laughter is new with every meal but I've noticed that lately that their feet don't dangle like they used to. I catch myself in the middle of dinner searching underneath my table when no one is watching. I used to smile a smile of "oh, I have lots of time, their feet don't come close to touching the ground." but now I notice that their feet are closer to the ground than to the bench and I lean back up and start searching their faces and I realize it's happening...
They're growing and I'm growing older and with the time that is set before me I have to be about the business the Lord has appointed me to.
Teaching the next generation to love Him.