So says the bottle of Stubb's barbeque sauce that graced our table last evening as we feasted on a bleu cheese meatloaf that almost wasn't. By almost wasn't, I mean...well, I'll get to that when I get to it.
This past weekend, Andrew and I zoom-zoomed down to Charleston in our tricked out Tacoma with the flashy black rims ;) to take part in Angela and Stephen's wedding--it really was a beautiful wedding, held in the first Catholic church in the United States, I believe, and still the "mother" Catholic church for Georgia and the Carolinas. The sanctuary was just breathtaking--small in square footage, but the paintings and the stained glass and the statues and carvings on the altar--just beautiful. It was slightly familiar having grown up Episcopalian, at least with the liturgy and knowing what to say and when to say it. The service wasn't as complicated as some masses can be, or even traditional Episcopalian services. The old saying in the Episcopal church is "stand and sit and kneel and stand, kneel and stand". Kind of like taking a yoga class--you feel pretty limbered up when you leave. But really, what struck me about the service and the sanctuary really was the reverence of it. The knowing that you are in God's house. The God of the Universe. Mmmm. It gives me chills. When I was in Italy a handful of summers ago, I got the same feeling in many of the cathedrals that we visited. Just breathtaking. I'd love to go back someday.
Saturday evening, post-wedding festivities, Andrew and I piled back into the truck, (including an armchair from my parent's house so that we have somewhere to seat guests in our apartment), and came home to make it to a leadership class at church on Sunday morning. I'm absolutely electrified about this time in our lives; about finding the Lord's vision for us (Proverbs 29:18) and living into it--this time for building the edifice of our faith. The foundation has been laid--and sturdily-- by our families and friends and the churches of our childhoods, and of course by the Holy Spirit, and now we are coming into a new season of putting up the framework for what's next (don't ask me what's next, I'm praying, praying, praying!). We're out of diapers, the training wheels are off, and--look, Ma! No hands! I am so thankful for the church I grew up in--St. Andrew's-- and the Saints I was mentored by--all pointing to the Father, telling me to press into Him, to find the good way, the ancient path, and walk in it (Jeremiah 6:16). And I'm thankful to my King, the Lion of Judah, Jesus Christ, who never, ever lets go of my hand. The narrow pathway through the needle's eye/I'm stepping forward to the place I die.
Sunday was a whirlwind in and of itself, filled with blessing after blessing after blessing after blessing. Isn't that just like God?? We went to lunch with Duncan and Kate and some others at Jason's Deli after the service, a place where the ice-cream flows like Niagara Falls--and it's fo' free--and then headed home to recoup after a speedy-Pete weekend. I took a nap and Andrew did work. Later, we went to Graham's apartment for supper--homemade lasagna-- with him and Joanna and to play corn-hole for a bit. A delightful evening with friends. :)
So now, the meatloaf. What started as a yummy concoction of ground beef and sausage and bleu cheese and stewed tomatoes, ended as a smoke filled apartment with my husband waiving the dishtowel around the smoke alarm, like the white flag of surrender to the perils of newlywed cooking. My loaf was indeed just that--a loaf of meat--waaaaaay too big for the pan I put it in-- it dripped grease all in the bottom of the oven, subsequently filling our apartment with smoke to rival the California forest fires, and leaving Andrew and me discussing "what would we take?" if our apartment were to go up in flames. Andrew said his Osprey bag--it has his computer, Bible, journal and everything he needs in it. I said my guitar and my Kitchen-aide mixer. Ha! How different we are. So anyway, the meatloaf basically just made a huge mess and forced us to crack the windows for the rest of the evening, but it still tasted delicious. Moral of the story? Divide the loaf into two next time. Maybe then the apartment won't turn into Smokey the Bear's den. Still, Andrew had to remind me that I'm a great cook and that he loves meatloaf. So he pointed at the slogan on the bottle of Stubb's and said, "this is how you should introduce yourself from now on: Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm a cook."
And so I am. :)
I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them. ISAIAH 42:16