The Tale of Two Spoons

I had a precious moment the other day, where my eyes were opened a little more and the love of my Savior filled my soul.  Whenever I bake I always ask for help from the kids.  Usually at least one of them is interested in cracking the eggs, pouring the vanilla and “helping” stir, while simultaneously making my kitchen table a collage of baking ingredients.  When I let go of the less-mess, efficient side of me, I LOVE it.

This time Michael was the volunteer, ironically being careful not to get his hands dirty while accidentally sending a spray of flour out of the bowl when starting to stir.  The dough was very thick though so soon he was asking me for help.  I grabbed another wooden spoon and we both went at it!

“You can just use mine,” he said.

“No, I will use my own spoon.  That way we are working together to get it done!” I said.

After a few more stirs and a holler from Sophia to come see something, my Michael was done helping and scurrying out of the kitchen.  I was a little frustrated to have my help leaving already (we hadn’t even used the fun pumpkin cookie cutters yet!) but I soloed checking the oven temperature, washing my hands and then looked back to see this…

Two spoons sitting in the bowl.  In that quiet moment in my messy, ever-under-construction kitchen, I had a sincere moment of gratitude.  At least there were two spoons in that bowl.  I had someone to cook with, even if it was only for 5 minutes at a time.

Then I realized, there are ALWAYS two spoons in the bowl of life.  Sometimes the other person helping me is my husband.  Sometimes it’s been my parents or sisters.  I can remember times I felt so alone, and then a seemingly random phone call from a friend came precisely when I needed it most.  That’s when I realized that Heavenly parents are also always with us, helping us, stirring this mess of life we have into something smooth, wonderful and delicious to all the senses.  They want us to see, feel, hear, smell and taste the goodness of this life.  So there is never just one spoon.  There are ALWAYS two.

The kids scampered back into the kitchen to help cut out a few cookies from the dough, and then they were off again to play games and jump in the fallen leaves.  I know they won’t be home with me forever.  If I do my job right, I will put myself out of a job eventually when they move out.  But I will still help them stir when they need me.

Some recent work of mine at an assisted living facility has been a reminder that it is likely I or my husband may spend many years as a widow, like so many people do.  But still, we will never be alone.  Life is eternal, in some shape and form.  I know I will still feel the love and comfort of those who have gone before me.  There will still be two spoons.

God is with us in everything.  Never forget, truly, there are always (at least) two spoons.

P.S. Someday I AM turning this idea into a children’s book…

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