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We have an expression at my house -- "excusey girl." We use it when someone is making excuses. Feel free to use it on me now.

My excuse: I have a stuffed up head for the third time in two months. I do not feel spiritual. I do not feel like thinking hard. It is nearly impossible to be contemplative when your head is too heavy for your neck, your nose is sore from blowing it repeatedly, and mucus is your constant companion . . . so today's blog is stolen from my husband. He gave a mini-testimony at church this morning. It was/is a beautiful picture of grace and a perfect illustration (in my estimation) of Oswald's "faith which has overleapt all conscious bounds." I cannot tell you (and neither, I would guess, can Frank) how my husband became the man he is -- a loving, attentive, faithful spouse of 26 years; a caring, affectionate, sacrificial father to four children; a trainer of men; a man of God. And, that is the point. God's work -- God's grace -- in his life and Frank's own response of faith overleap conscious bounds.

Frank's testimony follows. (It helps to know that he is a chef.)

I don't think about my childhood very much. It was rough. I prefer to think about my wife, my kids, my job, food, the availability of fiddlehead ferns, the price of morels . . . But recently, Merlin Olsen died, which made me think of the time I met him. It was 1971. I was 12. We were at the Hollywood Boys' Club Boy of the Year party. I was the boy of the month in arts & crafts for July of that year. I only remember a few things from that event: It was held at a fancy place. I got a trophy. I wasn't Boy of the Year. I met Merlin Olsen. I had chocolate mousse for the first time, and I thought it was magical.

I was lost as a kid. I grew up on welfare, the oldest of four children. I had three sisters. We moved a lot -- went to a bunch of different schools, sometimes three or more within the same school year. We survived. Hid from creditors, didn't answer the door, had an unlisted phone number. I went to the Boys' Club six days a week that summer because we lived in a motel, and there was no place to play. My friend and I used to clean the stems and seeds out of bricks of marijuana for his mom. We used to steal coins out of the wishing well ponds at Grauman's Chinese Theater on the way to school. And more. None of the kids I knew lived with their dad or went to church.

I shake my head when I think back. How did I make it out of there? God. His grace.

I still love chocolate mousse, and I have always thought fondly of Merlin Olsen.

That's the end of what Frank said this morning. Nora, Izzy and I then passed out little cups of chocolate mousse Frank had made. Grace. Indefinable grace. One thing Frank didn't say that he models for me and for my kids on a daily basis -- his heart is saturated with gratitude.