There is a farmers market in my town that I try to visit weekly.
I stroll across the fronts of the vendors’ wares, admiring everything from homemade banana bread to fragrant lavender sachets. Although I am known to purchase different things, I always look forward to finishing my time at the local honey stand.
Glancing over a variety of honey put in everything from Mason jars to candies, my eyes find themselves drawn to the honeysticks — thin straws filled with natural honey. Choosing a handful, I feel like a girl holding a sweet bouquet of nectar. Once home, I put the sticks in a vintage milk glass vase near the coffeepot. I delight in the thought of morning.
Morning greets me with the smell of coffee and the taste of sunshine. Gliding my thumb up the straw, the remaining drops of silky amber gloss over my lips. I cannot help but smile. Seven sticks left – a week’s worth of tomorrow mornings to look forward to experiencing.
Honeysticks.
As I go about the day, my thoughts return to the honeysticks. The pure, sweet honey reminds me of how much I look forward to and enjoy the purest love I have ever known – the love of Christ Jesus. The thought makes me smile from the inside out, and for a moment, I feel more like a color than a girl: Sunny yellow.
As evening nears, I look across the table to see my daughter’s pale blue eyes flicker with excitement. She details the top choice of colleges she wants to visit. Being her junior year in high school, conversations with my daughter have shifted. I vividly recall the same gleam in her eyes as she studied the Toys “R” Us catalog with a thick black marker, circling her top choices for Christmas gifts. Now, she sits before me with college catalogs.
Honeysticks.
She looks like a girl holding a sweet bouquet of nectar. A thought rushes over me: College is her honeystick – her something to look forward to.
“You are going to shine in college,” I tell her. “Just imagine being in your field of study… learning, exploring – you will soar.”
Her eyes widen with joy, and between her blinks, I see the sweetness within her soul shine like amber. “Thanks, Mama.”
Her calling me “Mama” in a rushed breath of excitement makes me smile. It’s hard to explain, but seeing her in front of me at so many different ages and stages…. well, it feels good to still be to her what I cherish being… her Mama.
Honeysticks.
We often do not realize the taste of words spoken and heard until we crave something pure in this often artificial world. I have yet to meet anyone who did not need something to look forward to and someone to encourage them.
“Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones” (Proverbs 16:24).
What is your honeystick?
Are your words sweet or sour?
“How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” (Psalm 119:103).
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.
