Someone has been watching too many HGTV reruns at Grandma's house. I'm a little nervous about the interior design scheme.
"Treasures," she whispered.
In a rare but magnanimous gesture, she reveals the otherwise secret stash. Bottle caps, seashells, one plastic bread bag tie, and a pink rubber frog.
If the generous glimpse into the dark recesses of her chipped heart box were not enough, Sugs looked at me with serious eyes and announced, "Mama, you can even take a picture of it...[noble sigh] and put it on your blog..."
For the first time in my life, I feel a bit of the apprehension Real Gil feels every time we see a garage sale sign. Just last Saturday, with her Cinderella purse dangling over her forearm, Sugs purposefully marched up a dirt driveway and spotted this:
"Mama, it's a miracle no one has scooped it up!"
Today, she asked if I wanted to borrow it for my nightstand. I convinced her it looked best on her windowsill.
Her artistic flair might be a hard pill to swallow, but I'm biting my tongue and letting her express herself. "Let the little children come to Me," said my Father so I let her come, twirls and sequins and garage-sale treasures and all.
Resting in Him who Designs It All,