For the last two weeks, I have not been cooking. I haven't made any meal plans. I haven't prepped anything. This is crazy to me, because part of the rhythm of my life for the past few years has been planning meals, chopping vegetables, cooking in batches, and portioning everything out into little plastic containers for myself and my husband.
But, y'all. I am now a weekend-only cook. It's crazy.
I love to cook. When we first got married, I dove right into learning how to bake and cook, and I loved it. I was making bread left and right. I liked to bake muffins on Saturday morning. Sundays, I would pre-chop the veggies we were going to use for the week. It was newlywed bliss.
Life got a little busier, and all of the baking made us a little bigger, so I adjusted.
I subscribed to a couple of meal-planning services like Fresh20 and eMeals, and it was fun buying the groceries and doing the busy work, without having to come up with dishes and sides.
Somewhere along the way, it stopped being really fun and started being a chore. It wasn't that I didn't love it, it was just that every waking moment I was in my house I was either taking care of someone or some plant or animal, chopping or cooking food, or cleaning the house. I lost my groove.
I fell asleep thinking about whether I thawed the meat I'd need when I woke up, so that I could double-cook on a Tuesday.
It was crazy.
It's better now.
And this is even crazier: I am not cooking!
(insert control freak panic attack here)
Michael and his home health aide are. And they are doing an amazing job.
At first, I didn't like the idea. I cooked up some crazy notion in my head that if they did it, that meant that I was a bad wife. Wives are supposed to cook for their husbands, you know. I drummed up thoughts that I was putting off my responsibilities or being lazy. Michael told me that was ridiculous.
He told me he enjoys it. And he does it with a sweet servant's heart. And it's so cute how proud he is of his dishes. I'm so grateful he has a willing aide who enjoys this kind of work.
The first week, I was a nervous wreck, trying to control everything from the internal temperature of chicken, to which container it was in. Insanity. I'm weird.
But last week, I gave in, gave up control, and just ate. And I ate good.
Taste and see that the Lord is good, y'all! He just provided for me out of nowhere. I feel blessed and loved and full and grateful. Because planning, prepping and cooking every single meal a family eats (even when it's just a family of two people) is no small deal. It's a big deal. It's a lot of work and it takes a lot of time.
I wonder what I'll be buying at the grocery store this week. I'm excited.