We trekked our pack to a favorite cafe nestled beside a chic neighborhood on Saturday morning. The hip locals made way for us as we edged in the crowded doorway. We didn't quite understand all of the fashion or footwear, but we went for the waffles.
The plate took a bit of a beating as my little guys lunged and plunged forks into the goodness of berries soaking in syrup. A blueberry swamp. I was not as enthusiastic and eyed them from the sidelines.
My attitude/ego/confidence had taken a bit of a beating of its own the night before as I wrecked our sporty little volvo into a fortress of an SUV. As you can see, mine looked more like the moat. Sigh.
Fortunately, no one was hurt. The fortress was basically blemish-free and I had a lot of explaining to do for my dear husband. Why can't everything be as wonderful as waffles?
But I suppose, there is always a burnt batch once in awhile. Tough edges singed black. Lessons to be learned.
The evening it happened, my toddler asked me for a hug from his crib as I moved toward his door. Arms open. Big blue eyes. I held him close and he snuggled me near. I soaked him in and thanked God I had not taken this from someone or lost it myself. Lessons to be learned. My sad heart took its time to say "thank you" for this difficult lesson, but a blessing in disguise (or outright) I believe it will be.
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