There have been more moments than I care to confess where I have been overwhelmed with emotion: sadness, anticipation, regret, excitement. You name it, I have felt it. I have learned that it’s completely possible to miss people already even though you’re still with them. I have learned that even after two or three years of looking forward to this moment, I’m extremely reluctant to say goodbye. I have learned that I really, really, really hate goodbyes. (and we haven’t even left yet!) I have also learned (okay, I have known this for, like, my WHOLE life) that I’m not the best at dealing with change. And so, I turn to the kitchen.
The beauty of cooking is that, for the most part, it’s reliable, predictable. I know that I can cook up some Italian sausage, chop up an onion, mince garlic, sauté for a bit all together; throw in some tomato stuff and herbs and it always produces the best red sauce you have ever tasted. (recipe/method courtesy of my Iron Chef Mom. If you have ever sat at her table, you are one of the luckiest.) I know that, with some flour and egg in hand, I can press out some thin, light pappardelle. Add some boiling water and a willing audience, and you have a meal. Each time, every time.
Though I can’t control the change around me, I know how to chop an onion. Although, at times, it seems like I will be overcome by the unknown, I know how hot to sauté garlic before it burns. And, when I don't know what to say, there is always the table that beckons those to draw near, eat, be loved.
Ultimately, (and because I set off the smoke alarm more often than I would like to admit) however, I am even more thankful for the unchanging One. The One who, even when life is in upheaval and even when I burn my garlic, buoys my heart and carries us through. We have an adventure-filled, exciting, and extremely unknown year ahead of us. How thankful I am that there is One who goes before us.
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