Lord, give me strength. I can do all things through You. Yes, even this… Right?

As I was pouring myself a cup of coffee and adding organic soy milk to the mix—yes, organic soy milk, a double sin against my poor, sweet morning cuppa—my phone buzzed with a call from Mrs. Clementine.

“I’m not happy with you,” I said, admittedly pouting.

“Oh, stop,” she cajoled. “You act like losing weight is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”

She and I knew that, as unbearable as this diet was already proving to be, I’d suffered much worse during my days on this earth. The first awful thing was losing Abigail’s mother—not to the Maker, but to her own wanderlust. We’re still married to this day, though I haven’t seen her in more than twenty years. The second horrible thing occurred when we lost Abigail’s husband, Owen, during his service to our country.

Considering these events, I supposed I could get through a bit of bland eating. Didn’t mean I needed to be happy about it, though.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she continued, “I’m already adapting some new, healthy versions of all your favorites. Nolan has offered to help, too.”

As a matter of fact, this news did make me feel better. For even if I had a worryingly low amount of butter and salt in my diet for the next few weeks, at least I had love and support by the heaping spoonful.

“That Nolan is a nice boy,” I told Mrs. Clementine while rummaging in the cabinets for some powdered creamer or other hidden beverage fixings.

“So nice,” my friend agreed. “And so good for our Harmony.”

I bobbed my head. “Those two already love each other like crazy. Have you noticed?”

Mrs. Clementine sounded offended by the question. “Of course I have,” she scolded. “Everyone in the tri-county area has probably noticed by now.”

“You mean except for Harmony herself,” I corrected with a chuckle.

She sighed. “Funny, isn’t it? She has the perfect partner right in front of her nose and she can’t be bothered to see it.”

“I’d say she’s probably keeping her eyes closed on purpose. Sometimes good things can be just as scary as the bad.”

“Mmm,” she responded, and we both reflected on this thought for a moment. I jotted down a reminder for myself to explore this as a possible topic for a future sermon.

“How’s Muffin?” I asked, not ready to say goodbye just yet because it would leave me alone with subpar coffee and my worried diet obsession.

“Such a sweet little house guest,” Mrs. Clementine cooed. “But he is just a guest. Isn’t he? When do you suppose his work with Harmony will be done?”

I thought about this for a second to make sure I was content with my answer. “It’ll be done when it’s done.”

“How very philosophical of you.” I could just picture my friend rolling her eyes at me from halfway across the city. “And how will we know when that time comes?”