Sunday morning has traditionally been our pancake morning. Lately, I've been the main one doing the flipping, but this morning Dean announced that he was going to the kitchen to make our "usual" and asked what I wanted on the first one.
I told him butter and syrup, but a few minutes later he comes back to my room and asks what we can do with a scrambled pancake. He forgot to oil the skillet. Hmmm. I told him to toss it--in the TRASH, I added. He verified again what I wanted on my first cake, and a few minutes later comes in with a plate of food for me and a big smile on his face, saying "Service with a smile." The pancake, although covered with the appropriate syrup, looked woefully pale underneath. Thank heaven it didn't taste raw though, so I happily ate it with gusto. It was nice he still has an accomplishment all his own around here.
I wonder if my efforts to please God are giving Him a chuckle sometimes too. I appear to be doing just fine, in my own eyes, but my works of righteousness must fall awfully short of anything Jesus did. All I can really offer Him is my "service with a smile". Joyful willingness counts for a lot.
(Latest report from the kitchen: one burned pancake and one raw on one side. Sounds like I'm the lucky one in the middle.)
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