Hailey and I recently went to Temple to visit my family and meet my new nephew Ben. While we were there, my parents had some red grapes in the house. Because they're SO easy and portable, I took grapes with me everywhere while we were there. As a result, I now have a grape addict on my hands. She calls them "bapes."
Since grapes are in season, we have now gone through two bags of them. We got back last Thursday. Tonight I was getting her dinner ready, and as usual, I got some grapes out. I did a poor job of picking the bag today because there are lots of small, shrivelly grapes. As I picked through the "bad" ones, it occurred to me that maybe we're like grapes. Maybe sometimes God thinks He might not have picked the best bag. I know sometimes I'm a shrivelly grape.
So I ate one. It wasn't the best grape I ever had. It was a little mushy, but the flavor was still good. I won't say I won't check the bag more carefully next time, or seek out the ones that are firmer, but I'll definitely keep this bag of grapes in mind the next time I feel the need to say something mean about a stranger. Or talk about a friend behind their back. Or even just go to sleep instead of saying "Thanks" to God for not throwing me out when I'm not the firmest grape in the bunch.