A Day to Celebrate Zero Mile Food and the Gifts of God

Permit me a moment of self-congratulations, or perhaps a bit of marketing for all my local readers.

For breakfast, I tore off several of the large, outer cabbage leaves, picked some basil, and pulled some Egyptian walking onions to fry up in our home-raised lard, to accompany our eggs for breakfast. That was nice, although Phil commented maybe a few too many greens for his taste.

For lunch, I made us a glorious salad, with two types of lettuce, cucumbers, basil, cilantro, peas, green onions, strawberries, and eggs. (The balsamic and olive oil didn't come from the farm; neither did the tuna I added to mine.)

In truth, it was one of the best things I've ever eaten. Wow.

Although rain was forecast, Phil tilled two odd-shaped beds that have been waiting for perennials. I planted the rest of the asparagus (hooray!) and the few small rhubarbs that still have a bit of life after being held over so, so long. What a relief.

Isaiah amused himself for quite some time with a packet of temporary tattoos he had found.

When the rest of us had had all the tattoos applied we wanted, he used up the rest on himself. (I noted with interest in The Week that one-third of adults under age 40 have a tattoo, and that no one really knows what chemicals go in the dye. I had never thought about possible toxins injected under the skin, but that was a disturbing thought!)

On a completely different note, I started to get together the next year's school supplies. This week we will hopefully finish up the Sonlight Core we've been working on this year. Jadon has been bemoaning the lack of reading material, so I went to hunt down the next Core's books in our storage area. I have dozens of boxes of books, stacked two and three deep, so when I found the two I needed right away, I was so thankful. Precariously balanced, I peeked in a few other boxes, and found a few treasures.

Isaiah had gone looking for Greek Myths a couple of weeks ago, and when I, too, couldn't find it, I realized I must have packed it up, due to perceived lack of interest. (At this point, we've done six years' worth of literature-based education, plus books for fun and books for farming: we HAVE to pack some up, because we're already swimming in them.) When he commented, several times, that he missed that book, I felt bad, but there was really not much I could do. I had certainly not labeled the boxes with individual titles, and I didn't remember packing the book, let alone where I had put the box.

So I was perched in the storage area, surrounded by boxes, and I closed my eyes for a second, just to be at peace, alone, and tipped my head back. When I opened my eyes, they rested for a second on a box labeled "Cores K, 1, 2," and I knew that was the box with Greek Myths.

The wonder of that moment still brings tears to my eyes. It was such a little thing, just a single book among thousands, just a small request from a young boy. Nothing important or spiritually uplifting or necessary. But to me it was like the palpable presence of God was there, showing me that he sustains us, that he grants us even the little gifts. I suppose James said it best: "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above."

The smile on Isaiah's face when he saw what I had found was almost superfluous in the depth of my thankfulness.