Raise a Cup

I sit at the kitchen table and raise a cup to the memory of my father. Hot choclate with whip cream. In a Santa mug. Not the one he gave me, that is long gone. The undressed Christmas tree waits it adorment. It's crooked. Worst things could happen. The play house sparkles in the evening shadows. The Chirstmas lights on it's porch and roof match the big house. It's sweet.My husband's guitar music drifts through the house with Chirstmas music and random riffs. The two clocks tick. My life if good.

Tomorrow Pray it Forward will be ready to go. I pray that God will use this to His glory.