On a lovely summer day, I prepared a meal for a dear friend, who was sick, and her family of five. I was super excited to help and made a delicious meat course, with baked potatoes, salad, vegetable, rolls, and a beautiful strawberry pie covered with a mountain of whipped cream. Her house sat on the side of a hill with stairs and a landing at the front door, not super easy access. Rather than make several trips up and down to my car, I asked my seven year old son, David, to accompany me and carry the strawberry pie. I went first and David followed. Arriving at the door, I turned around to see how he was doing just as he precariously made it to the landing. With his last step up, the delicious fresh strawberry pie flipped out of his hands landing upside down showing the pie tin, strawberries, crust and whipping cream splattered over the cement. I thought of how much I loved this son and his goodness to help his mother and said, “David, we can laugh or cry about this, and I choose to laugh.” We stood there in the sunlight laughing as my friend answered the door.
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