My dad’s days of living alone in the house he built with his own two hands are coming to a close. For the last several months, our immediate family has been organizing a lifetime of possessions and memories into groups of items to be auctioned or sold in a yard sale of epic proportions. While this process has been painful, it has given us some time to reflect and reminisce.
Not too long ago my dad was sharing how his mother, during the days of The Great Depression, would make unbelievable, unique creations from nothing more than leftovers. Although several family members tried to duplicate them down through the years, they weren’t even marginally successful. Why, I wondered. Then, just a few days before Valentine’s, it hit me. Love is an ingredient! You can’t borrow it, substitute for it, or use someone else’s. It is the responsibility of each one of us to claim it, cherish it and then, in the crowning act that comes from the heart of God Himself, we have to share it.
Yes. Love is an ingredient. I’m sure of it.
Now, I’ve got to alter all these recipes I’ve got around the house. I think it will be worth the effort.
