Friday, January 21, 2011


I really like to meet God in the kitchen.

This was a quick dinner: chicken and swiss chard in coconut curry sauce over cilantro rice. It sounds exotic and difficult, but chopping and stirring are the hardest parts. Little Man declared that curry is his favorite spice. That little boy makes me happier than anything else could. And not just because he like to eat good food. But that does help. He also told us he loves Bob Dylan yesterday. He is so funny.

Jameson liked good food, too.

Last night we had leftover chicken spinach roll-ups and a spinach salad with fresh blueberries and pomegranate. Hubs was teasing me about taking pictures so I didn't get any. It was good, though. It was the first time I'd ever peeled a pomegranate. I didn't do a great job. By the time I was done, both me and the kitchen were covered in sticky, red pomegranate juice.

My bedtime treat last night: hot apple cider with cinnamon, nutmeg and whipped cream. Whipped cream is totally one of my own, personal food groups. I like it so much I often think, "I want whipped cream, what do we have that I can put it on?" The idea of just eating a bowl of whipped cream alone seems wrong. I've done it before and it doesn't taste wrong, but society has labeled it a topping, so alas, I will try to keep it that way.

This was breakfast this morning. Crockpot pumpkin oatmeal. And yes, I did think about putting whipped cream on it; a close second was maple syrup and heavy whipping cream. I should probably get my cholesterol checked.

Between my breadmaker and crockpot, I think we can -and may- wake up to fresh hot breakfasts every day! Except on pancake days. And bacon mornings. Yeah, I really should get my cholesterol checked.

Little Man has been sick with the croup all week and it is super cold outside; we are in the throes of cabin fever. It has warmed up to -15 so far today and without his sidekick to wake him up, Little Man is still sleeping. I'm okay with that. He has always been a big sleeper. Jameson was always our alarm clock and we are all out of sync now. I'm trying my best to get back in sync, back to myself so Little Man can again be himself. Although, I've got to say that I don't mind the whole sleeping in thing. This week has been really challenging with the cold and croup. I'm so tempted to just put TV on; we could sit and rot our brains out all day long and I wouldn't have to deal with a whiny kiddo or my own thoughts and feelings. Permanent numbing sometimes seems like a great idea. But I firmly believe that we get out of this life what we put into it, so that doesn't really work all that well. So instead of sitting it out and waiting for the water to get calm, I think I'm going to learn how to surf. At least metaphorically; I'm not a good enough swimmer to try it for real. And sharks freak me out. I think my brothers made me watch Jaws a few times too many as a young child. Although, if Hubs could swing a residency in Hawaii, I think I'd be okay with that.

So no TV. Well, maybe a little TV. Maybe a movie a day while sick. But really, the games and books and rainbow chains and construction paper hearts with glitter and legos are way more fun that TV anyway. And sure, my house may get a little messier in the process, but since when have I ever shied away from a mess!?

Ah, pudding painting! A favorite activity in our house. I can usually measure how much fun we've had in a day by how dirty the tub water looks at the end of the day. Or, by how many trips to the tub we took.

Did I tell you I'm reading the Bible this year? The whole thing. I've never done it before and am really excited about it. I started thinking about it back in November and tried to start then, but it didn't go well. The hospital was too distracting and I was too unstable to focus on anything but J for more than a few seconds. At that time, my every breath was a prayer and I was wholly focused a select few verses that I just played over and over in my mind.

I am certainly just as, if not more, unstable now, but focusing on myself and this grief will only make that worse. Instead, I try to read novels and play with Little Man and hold conversations with people and read God's word and cook. I've heard that if you do something long enough it becomes habit; maybe if I do "normal" stuff long enough, life will become normal.

But back to the Bible thing. I own, like, 10 Bibles. I love Bibles. I love the way they feel so heavy in my hands, the way the leather covers smell, the way the papery thin pages sound when I flip through the book. I have all of these Bibles all over my house and like them, but I don't use them. Sometimes I do, but most of the time, I pick one up and just feel lost. I feel like I should hear a voice telling me where to look and what to read. I feel like there should be a conversation happening when I'm in The Word and often times it falls short of my expectations. I've long neglected just picking up the Good Book and reading it on my own. I've done many Bible studies and love my daily devotionals, but that is always someone else interpreting the Bible. Even if I don't get it, even if I don't feel it, going there and meeting God in His book has got to have value. So I'm reading it. But I'm reading it online. The irony is not lost on me; I own so many Bibles and love real books, and here I am reading it on Facebook. Seriously. The One Year Bible posts a link for the day's verses on my wall every day and I click and read. It is easy to remember and easy to click and read. I have a feeling I will eventually want to get back into a "real" Bible, but for now, the fact that I'm in God's word every day is enough. It is not an easy commitment to keep, but keeping the focus on God and stoking that fire in my heart is so important right now. Jesus is the only thing keeping me out of the abyss and I need to stay close. I need to meet him not only in the kitchen, but every other place in my day.

Ahhh, this post is too long and I am rambling much too much. For that I am sorry, but I have just one more thing I need to share. You may want to grab a tissue.

Jameson went home right before sunrise the day after Christmas. It was peaceful and quiet and awful and beautiful and then he was gone. He was gone and Hubs and I packed up all of the cards and pictures and gifts and clothes and we went home to tell . On the drive home, the sun was just rising and it was a perfect winter morning. The snow was clean and white, the sky was clear, and the sun was a glorious ball of fire, reflecting off the buildings as it began its upward climb in the sky. I was noticing the beginning of this new, beautiful day and the idea that new lives were beginning was not lost on me. Jameson's new and perfect life was beginning in Heaven and our lives were also new and different. And right then, as the sun made its debut, a song came on the radio and I almost pulled over. I thought for sure I was going to lose it when I heard the first notes wash over me; instead I was filled with immense peace.

I want to live like this. I want to bring everything to Jesus and live.

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