Five Little Fishes

Little Yellow Bowl My little yellow bowl broke today, its handle finally succumbing to 34 years of regular use and hot dishwashers. It’s not much of a bowl. Plastic, part of a set long gone. And I was surprised at the rush of emotion I felt. You see, my mother-in-law gave me that bowl. She gave me the whole set as part of a large box of utensils and bowls and dishcloths and other kitchen things her son and I would need as we set up our first home together. While many may not see that as such a big deal, it was. I was most decidedly not her choice for her son. And yet, she still did this thoughtful thing. I use that bowl for nearly everything. It has a little spout, making it perfect for pouring pancake batter on a hot griddle or cake mix into cupcake tins. And every time I used it over the years, I thought about her. The rest of the contents of that box are mostly long gone. But the little yellow bowl hung in there, for 34 years. My mother-in-law and I had what can ta

I see them everywhere…bumper stickers with a picture of a motorcycle and the reminder to “Share the Road.” Just because a vehicle has two wheels instead of four, looks a little different, is perhaps smaller than our own, doesn’t mean we, in our four-door sedans, SUVs or minivans, have a greater right to the roadway. I saw one of those bumper stickers on the way to church the other night, and realized how much that phrase serves as a reminder to members of the faith community. Share the road. There is a vast array of faith expressions in Southern Utah these days. There are little two-wheeler churches just trying to get down the road safely. There are big SUV churches with well-financed programs and facilities. There are the minivan churches – family friendly and safe as they can be. There are hot-rod churches with flames painted up the side, and hard-scrabble, hard-working churches like my grandpa’s old Chevy truck. Each person, joined with others of like faith, is traveling in a simil