Wednesday, July 17, 2019
I've been thinking lately about our kitchen - a kitchen in an old house.
Can't quite put my finger on it... or maybe I can!
It's the smell of something homemade and yummy coming out of the stove that will make my little family happy.
It's a brunch for family and friends and the sweet sights of all that cozy goodness.
It's tea and coffee ready to be served for anyone who walks through out door.
It's simple flowers in vases not perfectly arranged but more whimsical and scattered throughout.
It's fresh fruit heaping in a bowl on the counter.
It's sunlight streaming in by the kitchen table.
It's vintage dishes found with a squeal at a flea market.
It's baby and little girl hand prints from daughters now growing up on plates stood up in the corner.
It's a happy place where this family is fed, not only food, but the Word of God.
It's a place where conversations are made, homework is done, and hands are wiped clean.
Mostly, it is a place of family love -- sprinkled with much laughter, a few tears, and buckets of gratitude.
It's all I ever dreamed of -- and more.
It's a most happy place, our kitchen in this old house.