Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. (1 Peter 4:9 ESV)
My dad’s told the story a quadrillion times. How I overheard him say he’d like fish and fried potatoes for breakfast. So one morning I rose early (Dad says I was probably only 10 years old), grabbed my fishing pole and a can of worms, and walked down to the lake. I pushed our boat out into the water and climbed in. I threaded a worm on my hook and let the line out, balanced the pole between my knees and rowed around the lake next to the shore. After I caught two bass, I beached the boat and returned to the house with my trophies.
I sliced some potatoes and fried them up with the fish. I toasted an entire loaf of bread and made some coffee. The smell of a delicious breakfast spread woke my parents up, and they rose with grateful hearts. Except my dad now tells me I’ve got the facts a little confused. He says it was the stench of fish scaled and gutted on the kitchen table that woke them and that the toast was another incident. Had I gotten as far as the frying, though, my dad would have downed every bite, just like he cleaned up all my other kitchen experiments . . .
Follow me over to GraceTable. I promise there’s no stinky fish…
In the stillness,
Sandy
