There's steeple bell ringing from the church that saved my soul....

All the cool kids write about the Table. About cooking, about how making something that feeds your people is a holy experience. How many times have you read that the table is a place to be feed and seen. Physically and spiritually.  So many times.

And it's about creation. Taking something God has provided, a harvest, and making it something beautiful and delicious. How many times have you read about the smells and textures and felt like you were there. So many times.

It's a cliche, an old hat, and something that we could probably write off., if it wasn't the most true thing in the world.

Because absolutely everything anyone has ever written about the table and kitchen and the act of cooking is a billion percent true. It's beautiful and holy and cathartic and cleansing and perfect.

There is something about the whole experience of cooking. Like from fram(ers market) to table.

The act of carefully choosing ingredients. The smell of basil and garlic, the way that good bread is soft and flakey, and the colors of everything. The vibe of the farmers market is a simple one. It's uncomplicated and organic. It's proof that we long for the days of simplicity. I have a deep respect and reverence for farmers, their job is a hard one, but perhaps the most important one. One that is dependent on God's provision.

Planting, and harvesting, and seeds and growth. IT'S FREAKING BIBLICAL.

The prep of eating is almost my favorite part. I LOVE being a sous chef. I love cutting and stirring and measuring. More than that I love the conversation that goes with it. It's sometimes idle chit chat, some times it's deep and meaningful. It's always memorable. It's full of laughter, and questions and connection....AND I LOVE IT.  It's also full of music. Sometimes it's worship music, or acoustic, or oldies but it's always the exact perfect vibe for the occasion.

I learned so much about cooking and life and God around the cutting boards in the the kitchens of the people who've gone before me.  Even back when I was little and I baked with my mom and grandma.

Maybe its such a holy experience because it engages all your senses.

Once it's done, gathering your people around the table to talk about whatever, sometimes it's silence because the food is that good,  or because the season is hard and words come slowly, sometimes you talk so much your bites and few and far between laughter and stories that are co-authored, and tag-team told.  Sometimes wine flows freely, sometimes we're just looking for the comfort of go-to meatloaf and mashed potatoes so mend broken hearts, other times we're cutting cake, pie or brownies or some other sweet treat because we are celebrating each other, and how far we've come and how faithful our God is.

After the food is done, and plates are cleaned, we linger for just one more story, one more laugh, savoring the moments that are here. What if lived our entire life like it was one long dinner. What if we stayed around long enough to savor, to reflect, to help clean up. What if we said yes to one more glass of whatever your having. What if we weren't in such a hurry all the time. What if the table...wherever it is, whatever it look likes was enough for us.

The table, the kitchen it's all sacred space. Holy ground. There is something that happens there that you cant replicate anywhere else.

If there is anything this summer is teaching me/reminding me of, is definitely the things that fill me up and give me life. It's a summer of getting back to my roots. So much of that is the kitchen and chopping and listening and learning.

The truth is, that I've been out of sorts a little. Slowing getting back to the core of who I am, and what i've been discovering is that I've needed to see God in places outside of church. I've needed to feel God in places where he's felt absent. I need to get my butt back to church, certainly, but I've needed the feel sacred spaces again.

It's been a beautiful journey back to myself, I don't know that I'm there completely, but I'm getting closer. The desire to love my people (and everyone, really) well is alive and well.

These are Holy Days and I'm so thankful.

I'm just sorry it didn't turn out the way we thought it would.

I have big ideas. Big, romantic, rose colored ideas.  I think some things should last forever. That we should fight for important things. Priorities should include people and time for the things that light you up inside.  Distance and arguments should never be deal breakers.

But sometimes they are. Sometimes things don't last forever. Sometimes you drop the rope you're holding.

And I'm learning to be okay with that. Life is about growing and changing into cool humans and sometimes we can't grow and change at the same time and in the same direction.

And that's okay. At least, i keep telling myself it is.

The big gay wedding happened in Florida yesterday. I, obviously, was not in attendance. I'm okay with, it, really. But watching the video there was a part of me that thought that maybe I was wrong.

Maybe 17 years of friendship should mean more than whatever the last 3 years has thrown us. Maybe history should trump pride.  Maybe I should have been there. Maybe I shouldn't have dropped the rope.

We were both holding it pretty loosely, and it hurt my heart too much to keep holding it, so i dropped it.

Like i deleted all their numbers from my phone, dropped it.

It sounds dramatic, and it is, but it's also necessary.

I like who I'm becoming. I like where I am and who I spend my time with, but there are days, like today where I miss them. But we're not those people any more and that makes it a little easier to miss them.

I met Brent when I was 15. He was not a cool kid. I wasn't either but I had more street cred. I just thought he was funny and I wanted to be friends with him. Our friend groups were different, they eventually molded into a common one, and he'll tell you I followed him to college.

And if it wasn't for that, i wouldn't be here. So, I'm getting more okay with the idea that sometimes forever isn't in the cards, and I'm learning to how to be happy for people when you're not included in their new normal.

It's all okay. It's actually better than okay, this life is a good one.