I was almost ready to leave my favorite organization store when I glanced at the last rack before the checkout lane. I saw a stack of turntables, and I thought, “These would work great!” before picking up two.
I wasn’t planning to replace the two in my cabinet. I had them for over thirty years. They were my mom’s, and she thought I could use them when I got married. They were perfect for spices and small baking supplies. I covered the avocado green with blue contact paper to match my first kitchen colors. Through the years, I cleaned them, reorganized them, and moved them. I don’t recall ever thinking, “I should get something new” until that recent day. But I didn’t hesitate.
I enjoyed using something my mom gave me. I knew they weren’t worth much. If I spun them too quickly, a couple spices tumbled, usually toward the back of the cabinet, which could only be resolved with taking even more out. I didn’t often take time for a full reorganization, except when I needed space or moved. In the last six years, I’ve moved three times, so I wouldn’t think I’d have many outdated or duplicate spices. Yet I had several. It seems like an insignificant process, but cleaning the spices and freshening the second shelf of my baking cabinet reminded me:
There is always an opportunity for transition, which is part of transformation.
I know, they’re spices—no big deal—but if you’ve been following my writing for long, you know I often find life and faith reminders in the little moments. It’s in the little moments and choices that faith grows (or wanes) and transformation leans in one direction or another.
My new spice turntables are attended to and ready to be fully used. I want my heart, mind, and soul to be the same—every single day.