I had wonderful parents. They taught us everything we needed to know to grow up to be perfect, well adjusted, productive, law-abiding, Christian human beings. One of the first things I learned was to share. I shared everything, with everybody. I shared with my brothers, my cousins, the neighbors, my classmates. If I had something and someone else walked into the room or came over to play I shared. I shared because I had to. I was taught to share and my temperament didn't dictate that I challenge or question what I was taught. But sharing begin to feel like I was losing myself along with my stuff. Who was I and what did I want? Then, twelve years ago I got married and I learned to share for real. My husband gave me everything. Not because he had to or because it was his obligation as a husband, but because he loves me. And everytime I goofed he said, "That's OK." I really in my lifetime had never heard so many that's oks. He also constantly asked me, "What are you thinking?" Nobody that I could recall in my entire 43 years had ever asked me what I was thinking. Just a few days ago I found out he asked me what I was thinking all the time because I never talked. Well, I TALK NOW!! And I share now. Not because I have to. Not because I was taught to. Not because it is my obligation. But because he's given me so much it's overflowing. He taught me not only by giving and giving and giving to me but by helping himself to my food. Now no one has ever eaten off my plate, used my fork or drunk out of my glass. Even my babies had their own glasses and plates and spoons, etc. The first time he ate the second half of my English Muffin I cried. We'd only been married a couple of weeks and I was a bit overwhelmed. Besides he'd already had cereal and he didn't say he wanted a muffin. He said he was sorry. Now we share everything and I don't give it a second thought, in fact, I prefer it, towels, scrubbies, razors, deodorant, probably even toothbrushes (without knowing), always a drink out of which ever one of us has a glass of water, tea, or both. Always a bite of whatever we have on our plate or in our bowl or in our hand. It wouldnt' seem right if we didn't. Wouldn't taste as good, wouldn't be as refreshing. It seems to express in a tangible sense the reality of being one. One flesh, one mind, one soul, one spirit. And it's overflowing. I'm happy, I'm free and I want to give everything to everybody. The last brownie bite? Ummm . . . How about we half it? Blessings.