When we arrived in Macedonia province, we couldn’t settle down. The fights in the church and the fears in our hearts kept us on pins and needles. We couldn’t relax because we didn’t know how it would turn out. Then the God who lifts up the downcast lifted our heads and our hearts with the arrival of Titus. We were glad just to see him, but the true reassurance came in what he told us about you: how much you cared, how much you grieved, how concerned you were for me. I went from worry to tranquility in no time!
2 Cor. 7:5-7
Yesterday I spent cooking. Actually, I started Sunday night. By yesterday evening, I had made the following foods from scratch:
- 1 batch of oatmeal raisin cookies
- 1 loaf of No-Knead rustic bread (this from 6:00 pm on Sunday to 1:40 pm on Monday, but most of it the yeast did the work, not me)
- 2 C. basil pesto (this took a long time, washing the basil, drying it with our really fun salad spinner, then separating the leaves from the stems)
- Bean soup (really yummy Mexican recipe – creamy and delicious, without a drop of cream!)
- Mexican rice (Confession: Mom came over and she’s the one who really made this)
- Honey baked chicken (Ian did the basting — my hero!)
- Fruit smoothie
I had also washed, dried, folded, and put away two loads of laundry, cleaned up the house, vacuumed, run out to the butcher for the chicken, spiffed up the downstairs bathroom, and pruned and watered the plants that I want to keep alive.
This, frankly, is a longer list of achievements than I can say I would be able to claim if I had gone to work. I took the day off because I’d worked on Saturday. Although the Saturday working didn’t thrill me, I could definitely get used to taking Mondays off. Or, really, any days. It was nice to have time to experiment with new foods; get the house into a semblance of order; and do some things that I’m just too tired to do after a workday. When I went to bed, I felt happy and satisfied with my day.
In high school, I would’ve looked down on myself for feeling satisfied with staying home and cooking. It’s entirely counter to the whole “liberated woman” view of what a successful woman’s life looks like. I always imagined I would be a scientist, making exciting new discoveries, or working as a science journalist writing up exciting new discoveries. But as I’ve grown up, my definition of success has changed pretty dramatically. I’m still figuring out what it looks like, and I suppose that as time goes by and situations change, what makes me a “success” will change, too.
And that’s OK.