Dishes.

Something I've been thinking lately:

You know those days when go to bed, sink full of dishes, dirty as can be and you find yourself feeling defeated. Defeated by what, you may ask? Defeated by silly little dishes of all things. I mean, perhaps there were other things, too, that piled up throughout the long day. Things just piling up like dishes-pretty teacups and so, so many breakfast bowls. Those not-so-wonderful things pile up that make your body tired, maybe your mind and perhaps, heaven forbid, even that precious spirit of yours, too.

And suddenly, when you see all of those dishes, rather than thinking of all the wonderful piles and piles of things you have done a voice comes to mind saying something like this, "We're still here. You don't even make time to wash a couple dishes." And just like that, all those wonderful things your beautiful hands accomplished seem to vanish away.

Let me tell you, dishes are dishes. They will be there tomorrow, (house fairies don't fancy cleaning such things) but other most special people, precious time and wonderful experiences may not be there tomorrow. There are always piles of things to love and celebrate that are always infinitely more important than a pot with a little burnt rice on the bottom.  And you are of great worth. No matter how many cake pans are in there-Or no matter how many spoons are left in the drawer. Your Heavenly Father loves you with an infinite love and it is never, ever determined by a silly sink of dishes-or whatever the leftover "dishes" of your own life may be.

Remember to focus on the piles and piles-

of wonderful things.

Just for Mama.

May, 25th-a day just for Mama.

I love when people say, "You look just like your Mama."

I want to be just like her.

Just so cute.

And always thinking of others. 

Always doing deliveries.

Always loving me with all her heart. 

And I love her with all my heart. 

So whimsical right now.

whim·si·cal

 

[hwim-zi-kuh] 

adjective

given to whimsy or fanciful notions; capricious: a pixyish, whimsical fellow.

Always been one of my favourite words. 

And I've always kind of thought of myself as just that: Whimsical.

For instance, I was the only woman at the festival wearing a dress today.

It was windy, and my dress was billowing. 

Hair wild-not even in one of those top knots.

And here's the thing: 

I never thought I'd actually find a whimsical man around.

One who would say something like,

"You are so pretty. Just like a fairy. And so whimsical right now."

The stars have aligned.

And it's real life.

And it's whimsical.

And it's special.

And it's pink,

yellow, purple

& teal.