Motherhood from the kitchen

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.

Mothering to so many is hard some days but as Spurgeon said,

"God forbid that we should offer to the Lord that which costs us nothing" and so with the Lords help I serve day in and day out. My life constantly being poured out to the souls before me... offering Him something of myself that seems so inadequate. Some days that pouring out is as if I were a full pitcher and my family is watered easily. Other days my pitcher feels bone dry and I keep tipping myself but nothing comes out, or so I think.. something always comes out... words of love, or words of discouragement. Critical spirit or a kind loving spirit.

It's on those hard days that I set out to baking, warming my kitchen with my oven, and sweetening my mood with rich cookies that I place before them when I'm not able to offer them much..it always seems to do the trick....  by the time I clean the last dish my mood has been cleaned as well and I'm full again.

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.