Willful waste makes woeful want.
I don't remember all the details of the first time I ever heard that, but I obviously must have been about to willfully waste. Lou's grandmother, Thelma Faubion, though small and wiry, was of hearty stock. She was independent, hard working, and opinionated. She always added lots of color to our life when she came to visit. And now, daily, it's her words that drive my leftover decisions. I try to never willfully waste. I certainly don't want any woeful want. Yikes. Scary. Any noun described as woeful is not welcome at my house.
With those words never far away, you can imagine how loud I laughed when I was out shopping for a birthday card the other day and I came across this.
My next thought: That card lady never met Thelma Faubion.
But I did.
And I'm glad.
She spoke into the life of a man who's a good husband to me.
She has been part of God's grace to me.
And, without that grace, all would be woeful want.