Who am I?

What people say: 
My young son says I am a terrible driver.
My older son says I am a great cook.
My teenage daughter says I am a know-nothing.
My grown daughter says I am a genius.
My husband says I am a treasure. 
My mama says I am a brave heart.
My dad says I am a good praline maker. 

My grandson calls me the impostor. 
My sister says I am a talented writer. 
My doctor says I am overweight. 
My friend says I am gifted. 
My club friends say I am bossy. 
My granddaughter says I am an artist. 
Mr. Tate says I am a poet.
God says I am his daughter. 
Who am I? 


Answer: 
I am a mom.
I am a wife. 
I am a daughter. 
I am a grandma. 
I am a sister.
I am a friend. 
I am a unique individual.
I am me.

Letter to a Rose Painter

Dear God,

I just want to say how much I admire your artwork. Everwhere I look, from children's faces to the bark of trees, to wild animals like the giraffe to the sea shells washed on ocean shores, everywhere are wonderful beautiful things that you have designed. There are waterfalls crafted by your hand. There are sunsets too pretty to forget. There are flowers that delight with colors and such petals!
The birds, just the ones in my part of the world, are colorful and arresting. Their songs each original, their nests of certain grasses and rootlets. Then there are all the ones in other places that I have never seen. It amazes my heart. How wondrously you have made all things.

You knew how I would relish every bloom and every leaf. How I would love trees and rocks, shells and stones. You thought up the best colors yellows, reds, pinks, greens, purples and blues. The color of straw. The color of cornsilk, of bluebonnets, of pearl, of sky. Like love letters to us.

Thank you, Jesus for this swirl of silken rose, for this pink with tinge of yellow and wisp of white.

Love you,  

              Elece