Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Pumpkin pie, roasting turkey, and pine-scented candles perfume my home this time of year. The aromas please me, soothe me, and fill me with a sense of well-being and peace.
Some people call that aromatherapy – an ancient concept. Asian and Middle Eastern cultures have used incense for millennia. Today we continue to comfort ourselves by choosing fragrances for everything from our coffee and candles, to shampoo or detergent.
However, as a country dweller. I’ve had a few unchosen aromas waft through my house, like organically generated fertilizer or the pungent scent of a little black and white mammal.
Those colorful critters let you know when they’re in the vicinity. And they acquire a real attitude when startled or threatened – an attitude that lingers long after their departure.
Typically, I don’t think much about scent unless it pleases or displeases me. It’s the extremes that grab my attention.
Our lives can also have the same smelly affect.
Our appreciation filters out and touches the people closest to us. It clings to those we encounter at home, at work, or in the crush of a crowded shopping center.
But so does discontent. It leaves a bitter taste in the mouths of those around us and has a way of transferring from one person to the next. It sticks like skunk.
This all makes me wonder what I smell like during the busy holiday season. Am I heaven scent? What aromatic cloud accompanies me on errands, mingles with me at Christmas parties, or enters the homes of family members?
Do I wear the pinching perfume of attitude or the sweet aroma of gratitude?
Live a life filled with love,
following the example of Christ.
He loved us and offered himself
as a sacrifice for us,
a pleasing aroma to God.
~How do I smell? Click To Tweet
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Matt Dawson noted the white Jeep parked in the drive. He pulled in front of the yellow Victorian and left his pickup at the curb. Mollie’s school-teaching granddaughter must have arrived. Home from Greeley for the holiday break with her fellow-teacher boyfriend. He’d heard all about Breanna and her other half—for whom his landlady had a keen distaste. He smiled to himself recalling how Mollie maneuvered every conversation around to her granddaughter. Her intentions were obvious, and he almost felt obligated to out-man the scholarly suitor spending two weeks at the Berthoud Boarding House. It shouldn’t be hard—Matt had his degree in architectural design and his roots in ranching. But hopefully, his furnace would be replaced in a couple of days and he could get back home for a less feminine Christmas.
Not that Christmas had ever been that important.
He wiped his boots on the front mat, opened the ornate door, and slammed into a wall of wonderful. His mouth watered. Maybe he could tolerate Mr. Education for a few days. Mollie’s cooking surpassed anything he threw together, regardless of his campfire skills. He already carried an extra pound or two around his middle, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be letting his belt out a notch before New Year’s Day. ~A Boarding House Christmas
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