On Wednesday, I was driving around with a fork in my hand.
I know, it's a little weird, and it struck me funny too. But I was headed to rehearsal and had stopped to get dinner, and I was hungry. So, as I stopped at red lights I would take a bite of dinner. Thus, I was driving around with a fork in my hand. I wondered what people thought as they looked over at me holding on to this fork.
Then I got to thinking about forks in general, and it reminded me about the story my pastor used to tell.
He told about a lady who was at the end of her life, and asked to be buried with a fork prominently displayed in her hand. When asked about the fork, this is what she said:
When I was little, and dinner was over, my mom would go around clearing the dinner dishes. If she leaned over and said in my ear, "keep your fork", I knew that this meant the best part of the meal was still to come - dessert. In my life, the best part is yet to come - heaven. So I want to be buried with a fork in my hand, and when people ask about the fork, you tell them that story.
I don't think I will ever look at a fork in the same way.
This morning I'm linking up with the Company Girls: check them out here. (They're a great group of ladies!)