Life at the Chicken Coop

Rescued

I got a call last night just after I got the ruffians to bed. It was the familiar voice of my friend and neighbor who I haven't seen in weeks (she's been travelling). In a few minutes, she was at my door with a white plastic bag and inside it: cake. But it wasn't just any cake. It was a single piece of dense, moist chocolate cake, smothered in a fountain of chocolate lava-esque frosting. It made my night. I felt so special unwrapping the plastic wrap from the white styrofoam clamshell box, uncovering the large-ish container of thick sweetened whipped cream, and then slapping huge dallops over the warm molten cake. I could picture some white-aproned kitchen hand preparing the cake for take-out, neatly and carefully wrapping it up, then placing it tidily in the bag. For the scores of offhanded negative vibes and comments I had dished out that day, I was recompensed a neatly packaged, lovingly delivered gift, just for me, just what I wanted. How unfair! I am not sure how I will ever repay those who help me out when I can't even help myself. I was reminded of the experience when I read later that night, "Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea..." (Ether 2:24). It was just that. The catalyst for my emergence from a bitter place. How do I merit such a huge blessing?

Sometimes I think I'll never have it figured out. But I keep receiving more than I give. Maybe someday I'll understand how it all works. Until then, I'm happy to eat chocolate cake and ponder on the matters that seem as big as the universe.