There’s nothing prettier than the morning sun shining through jars of freshly canned grape juice.
In fact, I woke up my husband this morning and made him come out to the kitchen to view the breath-taking sight. He appreciates things like this. It’s one of the things I love most about him.
In the bleak midwinter, this grape juice will taste heavenly. Right now, it’s probably a little weak, but given time, this is grape juice at its finest. It needs to set awhile, soak awhile, sleep awhile. One raw, bitterly cold and snowy January evening, my hubby will pop some popcorn, I’ll get out the cribbage board, and we’ll pop open one of these jars. We’ll strain out the grapes and have a taste of late summer goodness.
Those wrinkly old grapes will have turned water into wine (well, juice, really). Miraculous!
As I get older and wrinklier (is that a word?) I hope I seep out enough flavor to leave a little beauty and sweetness in the world. As God steeps us in the ordinary, may we create something extra-ordinary. Perhaps even miraculous.