Day 19

My grandmother’s apron is a faded blue with a small, floral pattern. It has been washed so many times that it is as soft as a whisper. It is a treasure. Each time I tie it on I am reminded of my “Mimi” and all that she taught me.

She made the apron out of two cotton flour sacks that she washed and ironed. In the 1940s, on the high plains of New Mexico, every possible item was reclaimed and reused. If she were alive, Mimi would chuckle at our “new-fangled” concept of recycling. In her day, they just called it survival. A couple of generations ago, taking blessings for granted was not just careless, it was thought of as sin.

I am afraid that it is a sin that I have had to repent of more times than I care to admit. I can certainly empathize with the prodigal as he desperately remembered the food that his father had so graciously and lavishly provided for him. The memory brought him to a place of true repentance. I guess pig slop will tend to do that to you. I have certainly looked up from the slop a few times myself. Each day I grow more aware of the bounty of my Father’s table. His provision is truly abundant!


Kathleen Tatro