all I have needed...

I'm writing tonight from my throne, a pale pink peony tucked behind my ear and a pearl bracelet cool on my wrist.  I've discovered a taste for being fanned, and sung to.

It all started with supper.

Roast chicken pretty much equals feast night at our house, and I suppose we were all in an expansive mood.  Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice hovered hungrily as I separated the meat onto a dish for supper, the bones and skin into the crockpot for stock.  I fed them each a token taste; Lil' Snip got more perhaps than he was strictly due.

But Spice lingered after the others had dispersed, wanting desperately to help.  She whisked the gravy on the stove and wondered aloud how hard it was to pick meat from a chicken.  Oh to be a grownup, she mused wistfully, and privileged to pick the chicken.

Finally all was ready, and my Farmer home bearing peppers, tomatoes, sweet onions and a fresh gallon jar of milk.  Too hungry even to use his bounty, we blessed the food and dove right in - baked potatoes, roast chicken, gravy and green beans.

Somewhere along the way, Spice's daydream of cleaning the chicken herself grew larger.  "For your birthday (when I'm older)," she declared, happy at the thought, "I'll do all the cooking and washing for you, all day!"  I fed Lil' Snip another bite and said I'd like that.  Her sisters joined the theme.  They'd all conspire to pamper me, they said, and wait on me like maids.

Supper ended, and was cleared; dishes washed away.  Imaginations soared, and soon I was invited to a royal seat, festooned with blankets and red pillows.  Sugar handed me a note:  "Ideas:" it said.  "1)  Work on a sewing project.  2) Read a book.  3) Just relax.  4)  Have somebody fan you.  5) Write in your private journal."

Naturally number four caught my eye, and sure enough, a fan materialized, and happy fights erupted over who would get to wave it.  While Spice, the victor, fanned me, Sugar brought me chocolate and Nice, on my request for a raisin (to let her join the fun), brought me a giant handful and a plastic cup of almonds.  Lil' Snip sat on my royal lap, paging through his ladybug book.


In such estate, it was a small step to order entertainment.  I suggested a small girls choir.  Three assembled, and took requests.  A handful of hymns later, they ended with "Like a River Glorious."  I closed my eyes to listen.

The choir broke up.  Sugar searched for gifts (a peony barrette and beaded white bracelet) while Spice sang to me, lullaby after soothing lullaby.

"When I am very, very old," I told my daughters, overwhelmed with blessing, "and it's time for me to go home to Jesus, and you are gathered round me singing, like you did now, I will close my eyes and not be sure whether I'm in heaven yet, or here."


"...blessings all mine, and ten thousand beside....."