Ironically, Saturday the 21st began with Brad claiming early on, "Today is a good day." If you were needing proof that the claim the promises route does not always deliver, look no further - that statement coupled with the events of today tell it all.
Dishes lounging in the sink, begging to be loaded into the dishwasher, piles of clothes groaning to be taken through a wash cycle, and my floor screaming, "VACUUM ME!" greeted my tired but determined frame as I hopped out of bed at 7:40am. Did I mention my alarm had been set for 7am? I should have been warned. Hurriedly, I prepared my caramel apple pies for the oven and placed them inside the inviting heat box.
Mental reminder: check them at half the time, cover the crust.
Mental reminder: check them at half the time, cover the crust.
Mental moment: those are the best looking pie crusts I have ever made.
Returning half an hour later, my nose was the first to sense the dilemma. The "meat" of my pies perfectly prepared, the crusts did not fare near as well. Burned to a crisp (and not one, but both), I have officially ruined a bridal shower.
Mental moment: Don't panic.
Assuring Brad, I quickly pulled out the remaining refrigerated pie crust to rapidly form small sections to add to the pie while cutting the burned section off. Goodbye, my beautiful darling... The crust was in the big black bag now. Brad had begun to help me, so we added the caramel to one of the pies and threw them both in the oven for another 10 minutes (Note: these pies are absolutely scrumptious when prepared correctly. You can find the recipe here ).
I bounded to the mirror. I had lost precious time remaking the crusts and needed to curl my hair. Somewhere along the way, my curling iron ended up on my lap, and now I had it, a large red blister, sure to scar in later days.
Mental reminder: But the pies!
Throwing everything aside I ran to the kitchen and pulled out the pies. Including the pie with the now-burned caramel, yum. Well, here I was. Rushing to put on makeup, get my dress, prepare to leave, I realized there was more to life than pie crusts and scars. Today was still going to be a good day. With Brad and thankfulness on my side, I packed up my car and drove swiftly but carefully to the shower.
Mental moment: and only a smug ten minutes late.
I thoughtfully decided, after parking and scoping out the situation, that I would carry only one pie in at a time to ensure the highest degree of safety for both the treats and myself. How do we talk ourselves out of brilliance so easily? But I did. A few short moments later, and I found myself with one pie in my left hand, half of another on the ground. Where was the other half, you may inquire. Alas, the other half, my dear friends, now gracefully adorned what they would call the "OOTD," also known as my chosen attire for the morning. The tears threatening to spill at any given moment (the staring picture window was of no help), I left half of the pie where it lay wallowing on the pavement and with the half ounce of dignity left inside, scraped myself up to the front door.
Mental reminder: Today is a good day.
Mental moment: At least it was the uglier pie... At least your pie pan did not shatter...
Daring not to ask the infamous "could it get any worse?", I shamefully walked through the dining room and into the kitchen with my one wilting pie. Maybe no one else noticed, but I think that pie actually felt sorry for the other's sad fate; I could have sworn she - I mean it - quivered as I finally was rid of her - er, it.
This moment should be the climax of the story, hmm? One more faltering tale, perhaps a fender bender on the way home to change clothes, the dramatic realization I did not have enough gasoline to get back, or a sudden outburst of sobs right in front of the put together, organized, on time, homemaking women filling the house. Instead, everyone was quietly sympathetic, I managed to hold in the tears until I could get them down with a few eyelid squeezes and tissues, and the host of the shower happens to be right about my size (and of good taste) and encouraged me to wear something of hers that actually matched my shoes quite nicely. The shower went off without a hitch: my pie was devoured right along with the others and I made it home to my ever-loving, gracious husband. Later that evening, we dressed up and went to the rodeo with a sweet and incredibly gracious couple for Brad's first ever bull riding experience. I felt pretty, Brad looked great, we made it there on time, the funnel cake was yummy, friends were at the fair, the seats were awesome, and nobody got hurt. Crazy, right?
Mental moment: this day ended up ironically similar to Alexander's day...
Here's the thing, though. I didn't learn an extravagant lesson through this day. I went to bed much the same person that I woke up as, excepting for what you would call a couple of flesh wounds (or curling iron burns, depending on your pain tolerance). I had experienced a day filled to the brim with grace. A day containing so many "what ifs" and "should haves" that I really do not care to remember them. My day does not match up with my latest Bible study or mirror my devotion time in John. Neither did I hear audible warnings or encouragement from the Holy Spirit. Before arriving at the shower, I had even been listening to the book of Colossians, hoping for some spiritual truth about why I experienced the day I was having. Yet by the end, I was encouraged. Not because I found the "answer," but because in the end, everything was okay. God is always working in the middle of my messes. He's always leading yet walking beside me. I don't have great insight into the ways of life, but
I have peace.
Peace like a river.
Not always smooth, flowing easily up and down, without waves or rocks or waterfalls. Peace like a river. My peace remains while my heart races. The tears fall, but I still have my peace. Everything is turned upside down but my peace continues to flow. My peace is Christ. My peace is "It Is Finished." My peace is I AM.
I have absolutely no great look into how Saturday the 21st took place or what will come of it. I am not even sure it was meant for a lesson - maybe I'm just too slow to see it. I absolutely see, however, the Foundation of my hope, joy, love, grace, patience, and peace.
- When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.- It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
- It is well with my soul,
- Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul. - My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! - For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul. - But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul! - And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
[Hymn from Horatio Spafford]
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