history belongs

to those who pray.

that’s the lyric and it sort of scares me. there’s something to be said for owning the past and for owning it because you prayed and believed and God answered in agreement with your prayer.

if i only believed.
i used to avoid cooking as if it were a leprosy conduit. i know–melodrama. but honestly, i’d rather wash dishes, mop the floor, take care of the messes that people make because they decided to cook. then somehow, amidst my resistance, i started to cook…and enjoy it. i realized that i had to find a method that worked for me. there’s value in that. we each learn differently and consequently, our culinary experiences also differ. i need color, order, simplicity and a touch of challenge. a well written recipe is golden. a great picture is a treat. brevity is also welcomed. so now i cook more often. it helps to have a boyfriend who loves to cook. i enjoy being sous-chef and as we work together i learn a lot of the basics and more of the options. so i wake up sunday mornings and i want, i desire…to cook.
and i believe.
part of the reason why i haven’t been on top of all my assignments this semester is because i’ve really enjoyed working on my exegesis paper. great subject, great process, great discovery…i’d rather do research than do my hair (that’s amazing). many an afternoon have been spent trying to figure out structure and meaning. there’s such satisfaction in those moments. even if i don’t write another 200 words, i feel accomplished just having reviewed what is already there. it’s like a good sentence or a great desert, a subtly beautiful lyric or a gaze you find rest in. it makes me think twice about a phd and causes me to remember the book i started to write…and may not finish writing…
and i find joy there.
what if i prayed more and i prayed for more and i really believed that God would answer according to my belief?

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