If there was a bright side to the dark mornings and my adolescent eyes burning in defiance on my way to work with my dad, it was the pitstop at the only place in our small town to get a cup of coffee in the predawn hours. I thought it was luck at the time that it just so happened to be the only donut shop in town to boot.
The glazed bar swimming in chocolate frosting, cut and filled with luscious whipped cream, washed down with a mini carton of cold chocolate milk could make just about any bad situation seem bearable. Even now I can’t figure out why that donut isn’t on the top of the “comfort food” list.
I didn’t know those frigid mornings with my dad would provide a foundation that I would come to hold dear and value more than any number they could calculate in math class… then and now. The most valuable lessons never did happen for me in a classroom.
The folks at The High Calling, in what must have been a moment of charity or weakness, invited me to guest post for them, and before they could think about it or take it back, I said, “Yes!” I’d be almost as thrilled as eating a chocolate donut if you’d join me there today.