Flour at my Door


My friend, Linda, and I put together a shopping list on the morning after we arrived at our condo.  It’s our yearly pilgrimage to Navarre Florida, where we write, critique each other’s drafts, soak in the beauty of our favorite place on earth and do a thorough catch up on the year past.

We have our menu and our groceries down to a science after years of practice.  This year I told her I’d make biscuits and gravy, so we added a can of  Grands refrigerated biscuits, milk and some Jimmy Dean sausage to the list. The grocery store is only a few minutes away, but we like to veg out if we feel like it. That means minimizing our trips across the bridge to get supplies. There is a Tom Thumb convenience store on the island for emergency needs, but even that requires us to change out of our swim suits or pj’s (the proper dress code for our vacations.)

We schlepped our bags up to the sixteenth floor and started putting our groceries away. I realized, we had no flour. Blast, that meant a trip to Tom Thumb’s before breakfast the next day.

That morning, we decided we’d settle for toast and coffee so we could get down to the beach first thing.  While we were organizing for the day, someone knocked on our door and Linda looked at me across the room. “Who could that be?”

I shrugged and watched while she answered the door.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I thought this unit was empty.”

“That’s okay. Did you need something?”

“I was just going to borrow some salt for my hamburger.” She was one of the ladies from maintenance sweeping the breezeway.

“Here’s some salt, help yourself.” Linda said.

“Thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

“Do you know where we could get just a small amount of flour? We need less than a half cup.” I explained our dilemma.

“Sure, I know a really nice lady who lives here year round. I’ll be right back.”

Her second knock brought a cup of flour right to our door. I suppose you could call that luck, or coincidence or whatever you want. I think of it as a tiny hidden treasure along the path, a blessing on the journey.






Running out?

HealingI’ve had a lousy cold the past few days and stayed home from work when I really needed the hours because I’m traveling the next few weeks. I worked awhile on a less than stimulating work project and then decided I could take a break and start today’s blog. My coach suggested I keep five completed blogs scheduled. Great idea but so far I’ve barely managed one.

My runny, stuffy nose along with a headache, cough and sneezing that hurt my ribs made it harder to think about blessings. Had I really lost my ability to come up with a blessings  because of this minor inconvenience? In addition, Doug’s feet started hurting again, his face has a rash and he came home exhausted. He went straight to bed for a nap. I felt sorry for myself – Doug too. Fridays are supposed to be fun, maybe dinner out and a chance to catch up with friends. Instead  I was planning a boring meal at home.

Since no big blessings happened to pop out at me, writing the post offered me a chance to think a little deeper about the good things. I came up grudgingly with several half-hearted blessings. We weren’t in the hospital. My cold did seem a little better. Quiet alone time this evening offered me a chance to get some work done and I would thank myself tomorrow. None of these really filled me with gratitude. Then I stumbled onto healing.

My cold will be over soon. I’ll feel energetic and happy again. Doug might wake up feeling better and we could have a lovely dinner and watch the Royals together.  What amazing bodies God has given us. I forget that when I’m feeling a bit under the weather and Doug seems to have one problem after another.

Doug has been through more than I care to think about. His body with few exceptions has healed beautifully sometimes with the help of medicine, and sometimes in spite of the damage medicines sometimes do. I feel very grateful for the amazing ability of our bodies to heal.