Something mailed to me a few days ago by my Uncle Bud:
"A visiting priest was attending a men's breakfast in Ohio farm country. He asked one of the impressive old farmers in attendance to say grace that morning. After all were seated, the older farmer began:
"'Lord, I hate buttermilk.'
"The priest opened one eye and wondered to himself where this was going.
"Then the farmer loudly proclaimed, 'Lord, I hate lard.'
"Now the priest was overly worried. However without missing a beat, the farmer prayed on.
"'And Lord, you know I don't care much for raw white flour.'
"Just as the priest was ready to stand and stop everything, the farmer continued,
"'But Lord when you mix 'em all together and bake 'em up, I love fresh biscuits.'
"'So Lord, when things come up we don't like, when life gets hard, when we just don't understand what you are sayin' to us, we just need to relax and wait 'till You are done mixin', and probably it will be something' even better than biscuits.'