Soup's On

It's been one week. One week of blowing my nose, tossing tissues into trash, taking pills, drinking water and coughing like a TB patient. Spring is arriving and what we have to show for it in my allergy-laden house is ... disgusting.

With that nasty picture painted, let me move on to comfort. Soup's on. Homemade, pulled from the freezer vegetable soup simmering on the back burner. Soup is my go-to food whenever I'm feeling lousy. The aroma of beef and tomatoes floats downstairs where I sit at my computer promising to wrap me up in comfort for the day. I'll ladle out a steaming cup of soup for my coughing husband and stuffy daughter and pop a hot cornbread muffin beside it. We'll all sit down at the kitchen table with big napkins and bigger spoons. And then, soup will do it's magic. The steam, the smell, the warmth.

My mom was a soup lover. From the red and white cans to the many pots of home made flavors, we ate soup on a regular schedule. Left-overs were made for soup and as a child from the depression, she knew how to use every scrap. I'm a baby boomer and although not as spoiled as the next generations, we boomers certainly didn't do without much. We teethed on television, had Barbies and GI Joes, parked the station wagon at the drive-in and asked for all the newest fads touted in commercials. I was in the generation whose parents pledged to provide a better life to their kids. And they did - with gusto. I was privileged and pampered, but never spoiled. And when it comes to soup, I can throw together a mean pot from just about anything. So, next time someone tosses you a bone - throw it in a pot and chop an onion. It's soup time!

Finding You Already HAVE a Blog!

FOUR YEARS - since my last post. Had enough time to ponder that one?

Actually, I didn't even remember setting up this page. I wanted to explore this blog thing a while back and vaguely remember going to the website. When I tried to sign in today and create a page, it brought me here. Gotta laugh. I think four years ago I was intimidated. This was a new world I hadn't seen yet. I worried about how to make a great page, what to write that anyone would care to read (this thought being a writer's constant companion) and I probably had to get off of the computer to do some necessary task like cook dinner. And now, four years later, maybe I can add something a bit more interesting. No promises, mind you.

I'm currently reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan. I'm immersed in this book so far. So many of the thoughts expressed have been running through my mind for months. Don't you love it when you find a book that not only speaks to you, but yells? It's a God thing. He's knocking. The subtitle is Overwhelmed by a relentless God. Yeah, he is. I'm so glad. If he wasn't relentless in pursuing me, I'd be face down in a sludge pit by now. I still tend to slip and slide close to that pit more than I like to admit.

A few lines from the book have lived with me all day. Maybe they'll pluck a nerve in you, maybe not. Just thought I'd share.

The irony is that while God doesn't need us but still wants us, we desperately need God but don't really want him most of the time. He treasures us and anticipates our departure from this earth to be with Him - and we wonder, indifferently, how much we have to do for Him to get by.

A wise man comes before God without saying a word and stands in awe of Him.

Isn't it a comfort to worship a God we cannot exaggerate?

Yes.