these are the days i prayed for
in pjs and apron. i stir in a sourdough loaf. and then i am interrupted with the reality that i do not have enough flour. so a text to bri is whipped off. and i untie my apron. and in this attire, run over to her kitchen for couple cups of flour. and back at home, very carefully keep following the recipe. and weighing each gram. and now it is fermenting and we cross the fingers. and maybe sigh a prayer. that this loaf is a success.
in sunday school. I now sit in a circle with ladies twice and thrice my age and hear aged wisdom that one does not know in a youth setting. and it causes me to want to write.
i carefully hack at my monstera and produce 4 more cuttings and eagerly watch their sprouting. and this plant joy is growing abundantly. and i feel like my mom as i putter around with a watering can in my bathrobe at half past eight in the morning.
a coffee date with a friend. followed by a treasure hunt in goodwill.
this tuesday morning i order some green sheets. and call mom for an hour. as I iron clothes and comb hair. and put a pork loin in the slow cooker because this woman ain't never cooked with nothing besides chicken and beef before. mom patiently walks me thru the pork process. and then I go to sewing. and i laugh. for i feel like i really am embracing the whole mennonite wife culture today. a pork loin in the slow cooker and im going to sewing.
a quiet house. saturday afternoon. and i stand by the counter whisking up raspberry scones and the thought still kinda gets me feeling all the feels when i think that just last spring that man that i had a crush on is suddenly the same guy that is now sitting at the dining table with his laptop ordering another credit card that i will cringe using, for swiping another person's card for a 100 dollar grocery bill is just still hard to do. but here we are dwelling in this house that's blending into a home, the dryer is flopping towels around, a candle is flickering, and a thin coat of snow is glistening out my kitchen window and i stop and sigh thankyou to the Writer of this all.
last tuesday evening 25 youth friends swing the door open to this house, bringing jollies and pancake-night supplies and we keep adding another folding chair to the group as we spread peanut butter on pancakes and sip from pottery mugs, followed by a game of rook and mafia that are enjoyed immensely. and we didn't run out of food which is my inner fear at every meal. at one point I stopped myself and for a moment just looked at the congested, noisy living room with a styrofoam-plate-covered floor and thought, ‘’this is good’’.
i’m not sad Christmas is over. i love that season. but wow. it can be exhausting and demanding to keep showing up. and when i am this overtired, the grumpies have potential. now it's january, and it's quite a joy. to settle into a schedule now. and mildly embrace my inner homebody.
i still take it one meal at a time. the mashed potatoes were lumpy goop last night but the man said i was being dramatic about it. he's not wrong. night before, the pizza had some dough issues. and ive broken a fair amount of things already. the hands are chapped, the journal pages are enthusiastically messy, and the coffee is microwaved all morning long. as i joyfully bumble through this new season, its been impressive to me to also take this all with a substantial dose of seriousness too. we had a sermon on sincerity last sunday and it was good.
these are the days i prayed for.
Jera Sis
I’m so grateful with you for the beautiful life God has blessed you with
You deserve it