Perfectly imperfect....

For those of you who know me and think I always have my act together, I have news for you -- I don't! When I'm cooking breakfast or dinner, these poor guys suffer gladly sometimes because it’s not always perfect, and it's not always ready. I’m not a professional cook. I’m just an average working girl who loves fussing over a bunch of big-hearted police officers who work harder than anyone I know. But they never complain, and they genuinely seem happy to be here. They eat whatever I make and enjoy the conversation with the other officers, and with me. When I'm busy in the kitchen and my table is full, their laughter and chatter brings a smile to my face as I'm loading the dishwasher. Truly, it is music to my ears. I can sometimes hear that chatter when I close my eyes at night, just before I fall asleep.  

And it all goes by so fast. Dinner might take me all day to prepare, then poof...it's all over -- they're back on the streets, chasing down the bad guys and keeping our community safe.
  

When I hug my officers good-bye, I pat them on the back (my secret way of checking to see if they have their bullet proof vest on...and they do), and I jokingly say "don't be late for the school bus and play nice with the other children." Then I tell them to BE SAFE. I miss them all the minute they walk out the door and I start planning (in my head) for the next event.

In the end, it always comes together in the last five minutes, but it’s not always perfect. It is perfectly imperfect, and I think that's OK.