Cooking, Cook Books and Grief

I read cook books like they are novels. 

I love them.

Especially ones with pictures. 

I often just look at the pictures and won't use the recipe. 

I may glance at the ingredients.

I am finicky too. 

If it has too many ingredients, 

I won't cook it. 

My brother on the other hand.

He is amazing. 

He will make fun stuff that tastes so good.
Like Hot Weinies, just like the locals make.

I need it to be simple, quick;

what I have on hand. 

Mostly I have been a meat and potatoes girl. 

Lately, I have branched out. 

It began with herbs in my salad. 

I loved the taste so much I didn't need salad dressing. 

I then started with the herbs more in cooking. 

Then tragedy struck our family and I just about stopped living. 

I definitely didn't cook. 

I could barely function. 

I stopped reading. 

Except for God's word. 

I am not sure it was reading though. 

I just sat and stared. 

I didn't pick up a cook book for months. 

And then when I did. 

Cancer knocked at our door. 

And I just about stopped living again. 

I definitely didn't cook. 

Shortly after Elijah left this earth. 

My room mate from college came and stayed with me. 

She brought ingredients to make yummy food. 

But we had so many meals we didn't cook. 

She from a dairy farm, long before I knew what that meant. 

With the ingredients she left, I branched out into new areas of cooking. 

Different spices. 

Different genres. 

Last Spring, while looking for some homeschooling material I discovered this website. 

I thought I'd found a secret. 

Something new and wonderful. 

I read every tab on the website. 

Not only did she home school; she was a farm wife and a COOK! 

My relationship with the Pioneer Women began then. 

My brother and his wife bought me one of her cookbooks! 

She has cookbooks and even a cooking show.

Which I have yet to see. 

Anyhow. I read that cookbook cover to cover. 

It's my kind of a read. 

And as time passes,

the beat of time relentless in it's march;

I begin cooking again. 

I plan. 

One week at a time. 
I cook for one less.
The one who loved to eat. 
The one I planned for and thought of with each meal preparation.
And I wait. 

I wait in Lent. 

I seek the quiet for God to speak.

Psalm 62:5-8
 Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.  My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. "Selah"

I take out a bag a day. 

I even got rid of a cookbook. 

It was pretty. 

But I had never used it. 

I press on. 

One day at a time.

Knees bowed to the ground in prayer, hands lifted in praise.