God Probably Loves Potatoes

This isn’t what I was going to write about today. Another edible. Other ideas hovered and latched on, but I’m too tired to really develop them. It’s been a long day. So I’ll just go with this and see how it lands…

After pulling one potato out of the bag this evening as a reminder to make potato salad tomorrow, I sighed. Look at all the eyes it’s grown. But that potato is still usable. And not only for potato salad, but for mashed potatoes, French fries, potato soup, baked potatoes, potato pancakes, and even potato candy — after a little surgery. I’ll have to cut away the places right under the eyes, too, because those places are often bitter.

I think that’s what God does with us. I think He sighs first. But I think it’s a sigh of a hurting heart. I think He feels our wounded places. And when He exhales, I think He breathes invigoration over us and into us. And then He cuts off spiritual cataracts and digs out the unhealthy places.

Maybe it’s not bitterness. Maybe it’s anger. Or despair. Or insignificance. He gives us hope that we still have the ability to be all we were created for. And if a potato has so much potential, just think how much more we do. I have a feeling He thinks we’re pretty special. And even though God probably loves potatoes, I’m sure He loves us more.

P.S. — Once again, it’s after midnight. But since I haven’t turned off the lights yet, I’m counting this as my fourth-day-in-a-row blog entry.  ; )


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