A Clean Garage and a Clean Heart

I cleaned out the garage today. All the other tasks for a typical Saturday were done and I was in the mood for cleaning the garage. It has been on my mind for several weeks now, reminders from my childhood when my dad implored me to be sure to put everything away after I use it. I really do try to do that but I am so busy after all, leaving something on the workbench or a shelf for a week or two can’t be all bad. And I’m sure I won’t lose whatever it is I sit there.

So with a determination I set forth on my task. My wife reminded me to be sure to sweep the garage out good because we are tracking all that junk in on her clean floors. I think she has forgotten we have a teenage son who often brings four other teenage boys to the house, and a daughter who is in and out. Not to mention our 112 pound yellow lab who thinks (let me correct that—who is) part of the family and never wipes his feet (I mean paws) when he comes in, even though the rug at the door clearly says to do so.

Now to be honest the garage is not in that much disarray. Extension cords needed to be put away; tool chests needed to be arranged and cleared off; trash—most certainly left by those teenage boys who are in and out—put away; and recycling boxed up and hauled away, even though our dog relishes in carrying every single bit of it out to the yard as if it were his own special play thing.

Within a couple of hours the garage was neat and clean—not sparkling because I don’t have the epoxyed floor or the nice walls, but clean nonetheless. Of course as we came in this evening I found another one of those cups from a fast food restaurant that I’m sure one of those teenage boys had left again after I had cleaned the garage!! No, wait, that’s right, the teenage boys haven’t been here all day. Oh wait, it was my cup from where we had gotten something to eat earlier this evening. Seems my memory is not what it used to be. Anyway the garage is clean.

Now it's time to let God work on the stuff that's in my heart that needs to be dusted off and cleaned. I am reminded of what the Psalmist writes, “Create in me clean heart, O God.” (Psalm 51:10 KJV)

I think I'm off to a good start!

Sweet Memories

This weekend our family enjoyed a great meal that has renewed a great deal of sweet memories for me. I fixed peanut butter fudge, chocolate fudge, hot fudge sauce, homemade ice cream, and fresh blackberry pie with blackberries picked from my small patch. My next blog post may need to be on gluttony for sure!

The sweet memories (no pun intended) were focused around the homemade ice cream, hot fudge sauce and blackberry pie. As a child, my family loved homemade ice cream and my dad could make the best I have ever had. I can recall the summers, whether at home or at my grandparents when we enjoyed some of dad’s homemade ice cream. We all helped, my brother, sister and I. At least we all got to sample it and give our opinion as to whether the unfrozen mixture was rich enough. There’s nothing quite like the taste of that mixture.

Then we began the process of freezing the ice cream. I remembered today that we didn’t use bagged ice. We usually froze water in plastic gallon milk jugs. Then we would bust the ice on the concrete or use a hammer. Dad would pour the ice into the mixer and we would watch with great anticipation as the motor churned the mixture into a frozen delight.

My aunt would often make hot fudge sauce and would bring it to our home, especially if she knew ice cream was being made. Funny how something as simple as homemade ice cream could bring families together.

When it was all done the ice cream and the hot fudge sauce was a grand treat. I can’t taste it still and picture those moments in my mind. To say that we ate ‘till we could barely move would be accurate.

We didn’t have blackberry pie, but we always had blackberries from my grandparents. They made the best blackberry jelly. For years I thought it was odd that people would make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with some other kind of jelly.

I can remember picking the blackberries and getting pricked by the thorns, and nearly devoured by the chiggers. But the cost was well worth it once I had a jar of blackberry jelly for my morning toast or biscuits through the years.

I often tell people that memories are a gift from God to remind us of a life lived and a love shared. It’s true. Those sweet memories that linger in my mind are a gift for which I am grateful day after day.

Now, time to get another bowl of homemade ice cream!!!