"Are you working it out with your tongue and your brain and your nerves?" -- Oswald.
This morning I made my family's favorite pancakes with oatmeal added for extra fiber. The egg whites have to be whipped separately to make the batter light and fluffy. I served them with butter, warm maple syrup and Jimmy Dean's sausages. Afterward, my son and I lingered at the table, chatting about college.
This afternoon, I subdued a three-foot square patch of my unruly garden -- pulling out the grass and weeds, loosening the dirt, watering. My friend brought me some tomato plants, and we sat down over Diet Cokes, talking about my children and hers. I tended the cut on my daughter's toe, helped my other son make up his waterbed, cut up some strawberries to go with the steaks my husband grilled for dinner . . . nothing major.
I would like very much to make a big impact on my world -- to write something beautiful that speaks to people's souls. Today wasn't like that at all, but still, I did have the sense that as I lived my very ordinary life, I was manifesting my salvation -- working it out through my tongue and my fingers and my brain.
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