The Joyful Overflow

Aunt Bee’s Introduction

Aunt Bee as We Remember Her

Normally, I’d end my recipes with sprinkles of giggles and use laughter with care — a teaspoon here, a dash there.

But this time? I couldn’t help myself. This was going to be special.

So I emptied the entire pantry of giggles — every last one. I put them into the mix first, before the flour of faith, before the salt of sorrow.

“Yes, this will be special,” I said, pouring in a generous amount of happiness — the kind that bubbles up when heaven tickles earth.

And I didn’t bother measuring the mercy. I just let it spill, the way a child pours syrup with sticky hands and holy abandon.

Then I wiped my hands, straightened my apron, and began my ministry —
not in the usual manner of the world,
but in the playful manner of a child dancing in the light of God’s Love.

Luna on her fluffy tutu, after a dramatic plop — wings crooked, curls wild, grinning like she meant to do it

Pawpaw: “Land on your dignity, did you?”

Luna: “The floor came up!”

Bless It Good Angel