It’s Thursday. I have chicken defrosting for shoyu chicken tonight because I started to meal plan and this is what the calendar tells me to make. Without it, JD would have to cook when he gets home because deciding what to make and then making it is far too advanced for me.
If I am cooking, something must go wrong. It is a law of physics written in some book I skimmed over my junior year of high school. I am 27 years old and have not outgrown this law. Just the other day, according to my menu for Tuesday, I prepared the easiest crockpot recipe on the entire planet. I grimaced through handling of raw chicken, dumped and poured ingredients of a Southwestern flavor and was juuuust about to call it a day when I realized our crockpot lid was not packed with the rest of the crockpot. Enter law. An entire crockpot of ingredients, one of them being raw chicken, and no lid. I immediately texted JD, Meredith (who gave me the recipe), my mother who is currently sunbathing on a beach on our island that I miss and Megan, who loves cooking eight trillion times more than I. JD responded quickest so he won: foil.
The foil worked fine, but I botched something else up because it did NOT taste like Meredith’s.
I started this blog noting the day. On Thursdays the girls and I scramble into clothes and head to downtown Salem for the mama Bible Study I’m in. Twice a month, all the ladies meet together for worship, sometimes a speaker. I haven’t not cried once. And I’m really not that girl. It’s just that on Thursday morning? Everything is real. I have time to concentrate on just exactly where my life is and where in all of it is Jesus.
And when I actually have this time?
My insides explode.
For two hours I get to acknowledge the pain before a loving God without stringing cheese or cleaning up the messes that never end. Sometimes I don’t even know the pain is there until I’m surrounded by women singing raw before God.
And then I grieve.
Homesick for Hawaii. Mourning loss of friendship. Missing close ones scattered far. Exposing insecurity buried. Acknowledging expectations gone unmet. Loneliness burning.
Everytime, Jesus is so sweet. Nothing in my life changes but I am held. And truth whispered that He is Good and He loves me and I am not forgotten.
There are boxes unpacked in two garages. Still. One entire room is unfinished and so we have our furniture stuffed in the other room. Our cabinets are naked. No doors or drawers to cover exposed dishes and cookware. I planned two playdates and a dinner this week and each one was rescheduled (which is fine and just happens sometimes). We have friends but not yet like the community we left.
I’ve been here before. Isn’t this part of moving? But I am impatient.
Except on Thursdays.
On Thursdays I have all the time in the world because for a few hours that leads to a few days, I actually believe that God is Enough and Sufficient and Good. And I am reminded that I am surrounded by big love in small hands and a handsome man and that He has given me good gifts.
In toddler chatter and big strong arms and date night workouts and tiny kisses and help from my mama-in-law and all those amazing messages in different tech forms from friends I love… in all of it I know God is the giver and the gifts are vast and I am blessed.