I gave my daughter my last dollar this morning.
Looking into my wallet, I thought, “I got nothin’.” I was expecting a deposit to hit my account this morning; it hadn’t arrived. (Good thing I didn’t make a pre-drop off production of getting to the bank; that could’ve proved embarrassing…) Clearly I needed to remember from whence my provision comes. I sighed quietly. Clear that it was solely my business, and no one else’s burden, I gave away the cash. That’s what mommies do.
“I got nothin’.” Not a good feeling.
In reality, I have shelter, food, a car that carries me where I need to go when I need to get there without incident, and I have gas, even at today’s prices. I am not empty, even if I feel that way. I work hard at being the loving mother, the supportive wife, the “ride or die” friend. I’m just wallowing in being human.
Lately, I’ve been paralyzed by my humanness. I believe that all is well, and know the anxiety I’m feeling will soon pass, but I think I need a break.
I’m growing weary.
I’m just guilty of being human. That’s why Psalms 139 is such a comfort and a blessing. It reminds us that we are never alone.
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you. Psalms 139:7-12(NIV)
Despite what we feel, we are not empty.
Suddenly, that realization is enough. I am sufficiently encouraged to get off my duff, get over myself, and go make lemonade with my lemons. Or, make dinner from what’s in my pantry (yup, that’s today’s feast, so stand by for the recipe). Having re-read Psalms 139, I’m looking up, instead of feeling down, and it didn’t cost me a thing. Thank You, Lord for pointing me once again in the direction of the obvious…my growing pile of evidence that God is Good.
When I’m feeling like I got nothin’, I go to my well-stocked pantry. This is lunch, and I haven’t spent a dime.
Today’s Feast: Mulligatawny Soup
3T olive oil
3/4 c diced onion
3/4 c diced celery
3/4 c diced carrot
3/4 c diced mini sweet peppers
2 heaping T curry
1t salt (only if necessary, taste first)
1.5 T flour
1 box (32 oz) chicken stock in the box (I use low sodium)
1 finely diced medium apple
½ c leftover cooked chicken
Leaves from one sprig of fresh thyme
2 T coconut cream
- Heat oil in heavy bottomed sauce pan on medium high heat until it shimmers.
- Cook the vegetables, allowing them to caramelize.
- Add the curry, pushing vegetables to the side to allow the curry to toast intensifying its flavor.
- Stir in flour to make a roux.
- Add broth, scraping the bottom of the pan to deglaze and then reduce heat to low and cook for about a half hour.
- Add the apple.
- Now add the salt, if necessary (adding salt earlier in the cooking process may cause the vegetables to release their water, steaming instead of caramelizing them). It’s important to taste the soup at this point, because with seasoned leftover chicken, you might not need salt at all.
- Cook another 10-15 minutes, until apples are tender.
- Finally, add coconut to finish.
When life gets particularly rough,
there is comfort in that
in an imperfect world,
a perfect God loves us,
and abides with us,
through all things
What's your favorite comfort food? Tell us HERE.
Rochelle blogs at Treat Me to a Feast about her life lived forward, reviewed backward, through the lens of faith. She’s a PK (Pastor’s Kid), who’s been a Baptist church musician since she was five. Always a dancer and athlete, as an adult she turned to liturgical dance to deepen her personal worship. It worked. Rochelle laughs a lot, is married to her first love and prom date nearly 20 years ago. Together God gave them two children and a boxer who is the other love of her life, confidante, therapist, and physical trainer.