Prescription: One Merry Heart

A dear lady I used to know, now running through streets of gold, always told me that God has a sense of humor. I believe this is true.

Because He made me.

Our story begins on a lovely evening when the weather was fine, I had off work, and spent most of the day running the errands I didn't get to the week before. The sun was shining, it was NOT hot for once, and I decided I would go ahead and bake the chicken in the fridge.

We all have our strange little nuances of joy in unusual places.

Mine is making broth.

Perhaps it's the frugal buff in me that loves the thrilling satisfaction of getting several meals out of one bird, and using more than just the meat to accomplish this.

Perhaps it's the savory smell that permeates the house when the broth is simmering.

Perhaps I'm just weird.

Whatever the reason, I love making broth--to the point where I'll dive for the pot of chicken first to be sure the meat is all pulled, and not eaten off the bones, so we don't all die of hereditary germ poisoning when eating soup from the broth.

So today, I pulled the meat off, dumped the bones and juices into a stock pot, filled it up with water, and let it simmer away.

Hours later I came to check on my beloved pot. It was ready to be strained and distributed into plastic jars for freezing.

Happily I pulled the strainer out, placed it in the sink,and proceeded pour the liquid through--only to utter a cry of dismay.

I had totally forgotten to PUT A BOWL UNDER THE STRAINER.

HALF the broth was already down the drain by the time it dawned on me.

Not to be deterred, because by Job I was going to have broth, I filled the pot back up and set it on to simmer again.


This time I made sure there was a bowl underneath the strainer.

It really is true a merry heart is like medicine. When things like this happen, laughing at myself is just more reminder that I truly am human, and I will make mistakes.

Somehow, I think God chuckles with me.