I am overwhelmed with the task of helping my mother clean out 60+ years of stuff. The stuff I call junk, my mom calls treasure.
How can we look at the same stuff and have such a different opinion? My mom grew up in the depression. I grew up in a time of plenty.
"Cindy where is your treasure?" I feel God calling out to me. "Are you too busy being frustrated and overwhelmed by the whole process that you are missing out on the real treasure? You have been given the gift of time to spend with your mom. Pause and see the treasure."
