Wooden spoons stand in a group, mismatched, in an old coffee percolator on my counter. They are mixing spoons, ladling spoons, serving spoons, spanking spoons. Different spoons, all gently dishing out love in its many forms. Wooden spoons, shaped from a tree. Old rugged tree shaping the cross He bore. His love, spooned to each of our hearts if we only accept it, accept Him. Wooden spoons: punishment and love intertwined. Wooden cross: amazing grace, ultimate punishment paid for me, ultimate comfort, red blood-love poured out.
Romans 5 :8
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners,
Christ died for us.
Silly it may be, but God showed me love through this lumpy batch of cookies, hand-stirred by four little people I love so well, four little people He shared with me. Great love.
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