Chili and God

It simmers in a pot on my stove...always has on Saturdays...except in the absolute heat of summer. But it's spring still, March Madness is on the television and that's ALMOST as good as college football Saturdays. I got up and made chili this morning. It's the first pot I've made since late January...when we were in the midst of NFL playoffs and right before we went back to Swedish with sepsis. Chili may just food to other people but to us...it's Saturday, it's sports and it's very US. Chris loved my chili, he would tell me EVERY Saturday it was the best batch I'd made yet, he would dip breadsticks or cornbread in it and go on and on and make me feel like I walked on water as a cook and that he was glad he married "a good Southern woman." The kids picked up on the theme and I think some weeks I made chili just to get the ego boost.

So it simmers on the stove, the morning after a teary night of watching Star Wars together and all agreeing we miss him more than ever and this just plain hurts. Grief lurks under the surface only to slam us at various moments. If we are lucky it slams only one of us at a time and the other two can hug and love and support but something about the movie and the pajama time together had it slam us all at once last night and we finally got up and went to Dairy Queen for the distraction.

And yet now morning has come...and I woke up and read the Book of Job and was stuck by this line: "My ears have heard of you but now my eyes have seen you." (Job 42:5) Grief is really powerful but the thirst for God is more powerful and even in heaven Chris is able to push me in my faith. I have SEEN God now, not just heard of Him. I thirst for closer and closer to God and God meets me in every single moment, even in the tears of our collective grief and the kids and I are very much looking forward to Easter Sunday.

And so I made chili this morning, the house is slowly being overtaken by the smell just like our hearts are slowly being even more consumed by the Presence of God. How raw and deep, how real and intense the feelings of grief and the sheer missing of Chris but even more so of that Presence. God is so much bigger than anything I have ever imagined.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh