One of my absurd interests is to check out people's refrigerators when I visit their homes: refrigerators reveal who we are. See mine?? That's the real me. Chaos with pictures plastered one on top of the other: pictures of people I love, people I miss, people who are in my life. Intermingled are words: school work, verses, names, advertisements of favorite author appearances, VBS projects, car magnets, and age old Christmas cards. I am most content in the chaos of life, and I don't mind the jumble, as long as those I love are surrounding me.
Then I see the vintage-print apron, the old sink, the bead board, and the new counter top. The new looking like the old; maybe it reveals the longing for the way things used to be. Next I see the food: I can minister with food. Food is easy; everybody likes food.
And I see the dirty dishes on the cupboard. Most day's they bug me, and I'd be bugging a teen-age girl to do her chores. But look to the left . . . Kids grow up too fast to always fuss over dirty dishes.
Cropped out of this picture is the dog who is usually in the kitchen with me; usually getting shooed out because she wants to help, too. And if you could see close enough, you would see all the unfinished trim work that reveals our flitting from one project to another, just for the sheer joy of trying something new.
Ultimately, though, what these photos reveal is that I am certainly bound to prove that I have inherited that strong genetic gene of the double chin; especially if I keep eating all those Christmas cookies for breakfast.