Reflections on Gifts and a Eureka Moment or Two

So I was slated to lector yesterday am. We had a lot planned yesterday that didn't quite pan out. I opted to go to mass alone, since hubby was still asleep and G buzzed around downstairs while Nic lay in his room contemplating his ceiling (given the state of our flat roofed sections of our house, I'm thinking the contemplation was not ill placed at all. But I digress.)

I stood at the ambo and reviewed the readings. *Good news.* I smiled to myself, thinking I could use some of that. Fr. Mike strode up, beaming at me. "Aren't they great readings today?"

I agreed. "I know I don't ordinarily ask you this, but do you want me to go longer or shorter on the second reading?" I had just reviewed it: "One body, many parts." The longer version essentially said the same thing in about 10 different ways, and I said as much.

"You know what, today is going to be busy, there's a lot going on," he replied. "Go shorter."

I'm glad I asked.

So the readings went fine. That's one thing I know I do well. Other stuff, not so much, but I know I have everyone's attention when I lector. Hubby tells me I have a compelling voice. I have to take his word for it.

Fr M had much going on after, I so I slipped out, thinking I'd catch up with him later. I have to set up Penance and First Communion for Nic, and he told me he'd help me get that done. The Stewardship coordinator told me she'd help if I needed it. Probably will.

I came home and the kids were still in their pjs. We had an event to go to, but I get tired of doing the border collie thing. After four warnings, I told both boys "Last time. Get dressed or we're not going."

Neither moved. Fine.

About 1 pm, Nic decided he was good and ready to go. By that time, it was too late, and he cried many bitter tears about it. Hopefully, the lesson learned is that when I say it's time to go, they listen. G didn't seem to care one way or the other.

Last note, I made a new rice and bean recipe last night and called it Who Hash for G's benefit. Nic complained bitterly that he didn't like it and could he get some real food?

I fumed. Hubby told him he could leave the table if he took a few bites.

He took a spoonful. And quite involuntarily said "Mmmmm."

I jumped all over him. "See?? It *is* good."

My mistake, because then it became a matter of principle. "Oh, no," he groaned. "It's awful, can I be excused?"

I swear, cooking is another thing I do well, and I hate that he is so damned picky. But the fact that he *did* eat some, and that he's starting to eat vegetables, well, I guess there is some hope for him.

I did have a few more thoughts on the whole "good at" thing, but I guess I'm not as prepared to write about that as I thought I was....more later. I have another phoner, then a draft to kick out of here....