On my way home I was wondering how I would “take care of myself” tonight, before the big day.

How could I forget the two beautiful examples of God’s goodness, sitting on my kitchen counter?

Two vine ripened-in-my-own-backyard, Big Boy tomatoes. Not too big. Not beefsteak slice-makes-a-sandwich size, but perfectly ripened; picked fresh this morning. Not picked early so they didn’t get bruised by bouncing in a truck for 50 or 2000 miles. Picked when they were slightly soft and if left for one more hot, hot day would be too ripe.

Perfect.

So, I boiled the water. Cooked the tortellini. Mixed in the pesto. Ladled some into a bowl and sliced the ruby deliciousness over the cheesy pillows. Tossed on some freshly grated Parmesan, poured a scotch over ice and…

perfection.

Garden fresh tomatoes are a sign that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Now if I could just dream myself past tomorrow.