Grief

Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Today I Am Eating . . .

I sure do enjoy my eggs in the morning but am feeling "soup"-ish today.
Oh, how about Green Chili Stew with a flour tortilla . . . I need a napkin just thinking about it.

Enjoy this quote from a book I'm reading:

credit: I Am New Mexico
"[The waitress] serves a stack of unheated flour tortillas, butter, and a bowl of green, watery fire that would have put a light in the eyes of Quetzalcoatl. Texans can talk, but nowhere is there an American chili hot sauce, green or red, like the New Mexican versions, with no two recipes the same except for the pyrotechnic display they blow off under the nose. New Mexican salsas are mouth-watering, eye-watering, nose-watering; they clean the pipes, ducts, tracts, tubes; and like spider venom, they can turn innards to liquid. I'd finished the tortillas when she set down the huevos rancheros with chopped nopales (prickly pear), rice, and a gringo glass of milk to extinguish the combustibles." 

(Heat-Moon, William Least. Blue Highways: A Journey Into America. New York: Back Bay Books, 1999, p. 154)

I miss New Mexico . . .

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