spoon

sorting through my silverware drawer, running my fingers over through the neat little rows of shining utensils.

freshly washed, freshly rubbed dry with soft red towels.

ever since i was a little girl, the silverware has had personalities all to themselves. the forks are knights, with their tine-made helmets. the knives are warriors with swords built in. they are fierce, these implements.

and then there are the spoons. no sharp edges, no points. the smoothness and the polish, but without any type of defense for themselves.

and so today, i went to my drawer of soldiers and warriors.

and to my two little rows of spoons. 

and i stood and stared at those small little pieces of silverware. and at first, i began to think i was a lunatic for putting so much stock into bits of metal with which the world eats.

but then i began to see myself in the reflection of one little spoon.

and i heard a Voice, so soft in my soul.

do you see you, dearheart? 

do you see Me and Mine?

and i saw me as a spoon. 

surrounded by warriors, people with influence to the world. and by soldiers, reaching out with power to the corners of the earth with shield and sword.

and then there is me. a spoon in a drawer.

maybe my edges are smooth and rounded, not the best for a defense.

but there's nothing better for comfort.

spoons serve up mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

and tomato soup. 

and all those things

warm and cold and soothing. 

spoons are soft and gentle.

i was made by Him to be a spoon.

and a spoon i shall be.

linking up with emily at imperfect prose on thursdays
my weekly moment to touch my real