Oatmeal

As I was eating me some oatmeal this morning I suddenly realized something. Oatmeal is the proof of a seed in my life. Let me explain now that I have figured this out.

I really like oatmeal. I fix my oatmeal with butter, sugar, brown sugar and lots of honey. I don’t really prefer it this way, it is just the way it was made for me as a child and I just keep doing it, even though I think I do prefer it just plain now days.

I have very fond memories of spending times with my ma me, who is my great grandmother. She was a great women. She passed away a couple of years ago from alzheimer’s and I still think about her from time to time. But the reason why I say this is because I would spend multiple nights there as a child with just my brother, ma me and I. Every morning she would fix us oatmeal. Not the instant kind, but the long time on the stove kind. The kind that made little boys like my brother and I go crazy in the mornings because of our hungry little bellies were not filled yet. She would fill the oatmeal with all the ingredients that I mentioned in the above.

Growing up in a house of alcoholics, ma me was my only source of Christ in my life. I would not have known about God really at all before the 7th grade if it wasn’t for this woman. We would sit down and eat our oatmeal at her kitchen table and read these little cards full of scripture that were there in the middle of the table. For some reason I would always read these. They would captivate my 8 year old mind. God was moving and I didn’t even know it. (That I Feel, is amazing). God’s scripture was already molding me without me even knowing him. So my first experience with scripture is while I am eating oatmeal. I guess thats why I love oatmeal so much.

Ma me had this huge Bible that was about 2 feet high by 1.5 feet wide when closed. She kept this thing in a glass case all protected. It was always open though. I would sit there and stare at it like it was some treasure of some sort. Which to my surprise it actually is a book of treasure.

Ma me made me feel loved. Everyone loved her and you could tell. I guess thats why I always liked going to her house. I still remember the house, I remember its’ smells, I still think of her every time I see a Wendys or a poodle. Wendys was next door to her house and she owned 2 poodles and they were both blind. You can only imagine what a 6 and 8 year old set of boys would do to such dogs.

This women planted a seed in my life that I had never even known about until this morning. God is amazing in this way. I thank every one of you that I know that has watered that seed to this day. You are showing me the love that ma me had shown me. Her love was pure and beautiful and I miss her. I will see her some day again and when I do I think I will owe her some oatmeal and a giant hug and thank you.

I love you ma me and I miss you dearly. Thank you for your love. I pray that I may do the same.