So the Chicken Salad part of me wants to be with Gracie and family and here with The Nannie of the Clan, all at the same time. But the bread part on the bottom of the sandwich is greatly anticipating the next road trip with Muffin, listening to podcasts and recorded books, doing some needlework while he drives, and kicking back with very few responsibilities. And the bread part on the top of the sandwich is reveling in the phone call from Baby Daughter this evening, discussing creative activities with children (She has two Nanny jobs this summer), talking about her afternoons with the Rowdy Girls, discussing competition in various artistic fields . That piece of bread loved the time alone in the house today, establishing an online group for the violin studio. Same slice enjoyed the afternoon of relative inactivity—groceries,
Oh, no. The Chicken Salad/Pimento Cheese is squeezing out and begging for attention. Visit me! Call me! Give me air time! Listen to my heart while my mouth talks!
Bottom line on the menu-no, make that the top line on the menu-is that whenever I think about Myself and what worries Me, or when I consider all that vies for My attention, I have an Idol. And I don’t mean the American variety. I mean the oldest Idol of them all. The I WILL that Lucifer declared as he was thrown down, along with one third of the angels of heaven. My only place on the menu is to do the will of my Father in heaven, just as Jesus did His will. That’s the only sandwich with no worries surrounding the filling.