Noodles and Love
Mary in the Kitchen by Sarah Reinhard – CF117: Super Simple Summer Salads
Hey everyone! It’s been a while…and my kitchen has changed.
By “changed,” I mean that it is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.
You see, in the last–how long has it been now?–I have moved. As in, across the street and 500 feet or so south, into a house that feels palatial and way nicer than I deserve. How we ended up with this house is a long tale of God’s providence, and we don’t have time for that now.
I will, however, tell you about the view from my kitchen.
Our new house–and it’s at least 100 years newer than the old house–is still surrounded by fields and in the same neighborhood, if our rural route with neighbors acres and acres away can be called a neighborhood. It’s all one floor, which makes putting laundry away less challenging.
The kitchen is the kind of showplace that has made more than one visitor pause. There are enough cabinets for everything I could ever want to include in them.
One of our first nights here, my husband looked at me and said, “You know, he must have really loved his wife.”
He was talking about the man who built this house.
He clarified to me later, “You don’t build a kitchen like THAT unless you really love your wife.”
I’m not a cook, but I sure feel loved, just being in this kitchen. My first thought, when I saw the counter space, was “Wow, that’s perfect for noodles.”
I know, I know. My reputation–and it’s well-earned–is as a NON-cook. But I feel loved, and I want to share it.
I feel loved because my husband has gone to quite some effort to make living here possible. I feel loved because my heavenly Father arranged for me to have this kitchen and the rest of the house.
My husband, not long before we knew this glorious new house was going to be our future, mentioned that homemade chicken and noodles is one of his favorite meals. I decided SOMEONE needed to glean this information from my mother-in-law, so she spent a day teaching me the technique.
Making those noodles–that first time and both times I’ve made them since–is an act of love, one that tastes delicious.
It’s the kind of act of love I’m pretty sure Mary knows all about. Her Son, after all, reminds us every week, with a meal, just how much he loves us.
Image courtesy of Max Choong on Flickr.com.
