I love oatmeal. It is just one of those yummy comfort foods that’s great any time of the day. The other day I was in the mood for a bowl, so I grabbed some quick oats and started microwaving them. I then began looking for the brown sugar and cinnamon to put on them. I searched high and low, but the brown sugar was not to be found! Well, now what was I going to do? Plain oatmeal isn’t all that great.
If ever I had a moment to share that sentiment with Woody from Toy Story, it was recently. As our ministry is traveling around with the production Questioning Aslan and our two British actors, I have been having fun running the sounds for the play. It has all gone very smoothly, except for one instance.
Two minutes into the play, the computer that I was running the sounds from decided that it HAD to shut down that very instant. There was no getting around it. The black box of death and appeared and it would not be ignored. I wanted so badly to scream, “This is a perfect time to panic!”
Four years can seem like a long time, but also like a breath. And this is especially true when you’ve lost someone you love.
They say each year gets a little easier, and in some ways I can say it does. After four years, it’s started to become ‘normal’, meaning, it is what it is. Well, most of the time. Then every once in a while, I momentarily forget and have the urge to call him. I had one of those moments earlier this year when I was having trouble with my jumper cables in the rain, no less. It’s one of those moments that a girl needs her dad. God has placed many good father-like men in my life, for which I am so grateful… but as much as I love them, it’s just not quite the same.
But, like I was saying, it does seem to get easier with each passing year. I am thankful that the day was not as hard as I thought it might be. I had a minor moment in Bible study this morning when we were singing a song about God being the Father to the fatherless. But I held it together… I didn’t really want to become a sobbing mess only 10 minutes into our study. Plus, I wasn’t wearing cry-proof mascara. And I hate breaking down into one of those ugly cries in front of such a large group. Ugly cries are reserved for those select few who know me so well that I don’t mind if they see me fall to pieces.
Yesterday I hit the big 3-1. It wasn’t near as hard as changing decades last year. Since my weekend was busy with ministry stuff (selling tickets, the play performances, etc) and the Super Bowl, it didn’t leave much time for me to celebrate. But I had Saturday night free, so I went out with three of my good friends: Theresa, Wendy, and Shaun.
I decided that the thing I wanted to do most was have Indian food. So I got dressed up in one of my Indian outfits (a chula, to be exact) and we went to Taj. The food was excellent and the darling Indian couple that runs the restaurant were so sweet and excited to learn that I’d been to India.
