Years and years ago, I found four sturdy bowls at a secondhand store. Two of them are Carr China from Grafton WV; one's mark is faded, and the other says Victor. (I'm partial to the latter, as it was my grandfather's name and is my son's middle name.) I like them for oatmeal, granola, yogurt, and soup, and if we had five of them, they'd be the only ones out.

It was a treat to find a Victor mug to match the bowl at a thrift shop on the Eastern Shore earlier this year. It's my favorite intact coffee cup (my first favorite cup is in pieces down the hill, and my second favorite has lost its handle, which is still lying like van Gogh's ear on the kitchen windowsill).
Also found at that thrift shop was a serger (which turned out not to be the missing ingredient in the Etsy-shop quest), a little glass pitcher from Italy, and this potent reminder, underscored by its soiled unfinishedness.

That's what's on my mind tonight. I put something out there, and I thought it would be a certain way, and it isn't. The essence of itself is still there, just not the rightness of the way it looks. It's no one's fault, what's done is done, and in the grand scheme of things, it's just a wee teeny tiny blip. But it feels big tonight. I can't look at it, and I don't want to think of anyone else looking at it, either. Neither is how I wanted to feel the first time I put something out there. (Oh, vanity!)
I tend to think of things, especially those that affect me viscerally, as signs, indications, omens. Yes, Rebecca, you're on the right track. No, no, no, this isn't what you're supposed to be doing.
I suppose it's important to remember my original motivation -- to proclaim the power of God's presence in our life. And to remember the original admonition -- not for my glory, but for God's. Still, it would be a different world if it had worked out the way I wanted it to. Or maybe it's just that I would feel differently in the world.
At least the bread turned out. I've dumped the last three batches in the compost, so this was worth a picture.

And so is she.
