I remember being fascinated with my mom’s pressure cooker. She’d pull the gray pan and all its contraptions out on Sundays to cook up some potatoes that would be mashed to a creamy, delicious pulp. I’d stand at the edge of the kitchen waiting for the pressure cooker to start screaming, signaling that the potatoes were done and dinner was close to being ready. I wanted to get close to the cooker, yet at the same time the hissing and screeching as it blew out its steam warned me to not to get too close.
I feel like I’m living in a pressure cooker right now, and I’m hissing and screaming that I’m done. I’m cooked; I’m ready; I am finished. At least I think I am. But apparently I’m not, because God isn’t taking me off the stove yet. In fact, things seem to be heating up. I keep hissing and blowing off steam, but thankfully, it’s not scaring those around me away. Not yet, anyway.
We’re living with my father-in-law and mother-in-law who have been INCREDIBLY gracious to us over the past six months. There’s no way we could ever repay them (although we’re doing what we can to help out, like stripping wallpaper and re-painting the walls!) But unfortunately, I can’t even count how many things I have accidentally broken since we moved in. Yes, me, not the kids. Let’s see – I owe them a cute pineapple lamp, a few other random knick-knacks and a new iron.
The broken iron tops it all. It was a really nice iron that she’s had for awhile. (In fact, I remember when The Narrator and I were very first dating – 15 years ago – my mother-in-law was gushing about this new iron to my mom. The Narrator was so embarrassed about this display of affection for an iron and told his mom she really needed to get a life. THIS is the iron I broke!!) In the home of a seamstress (which my mother-in-law is) a good iron is extremely important. Trust me, I know. I’m a seamstress too. In fact, I was using it while sewing a pair of pants for The Narrator to try to take my mind off the house stuff when it broke. It fell off the ironing board and crashed onto the basement floor before I could blink. I was already having an emotionally bad day, and the iron tipped me over the edge. I had a meltdown. Full-blown, teary, had to call The Narrator meltdown. I was still sniffling and puffy-eyed when my mother-in-law came down and re-assured me it’s just an iron. I replied, “It’s not just the iron, it’s EVERYTHING!!” She sighed and smiled and gave me that motherly look that reminded me that all this will pass one day and it will be o.k. Grace. Lots and lots of grace. It’s the only way to live when you’re crammed in a pot with other people. We’ve been given lots of both the past 6 months from our family and friends both near and far. I’m trying to dish some out too, but I find that I’m mostly the one being seasoned. Thank you to all who are seasoning me with grace and love during this time. I know I’m bad about blogging and returning phone calls and e-mails and Facebooking. I’m dry so much of the time. Thank you for not giving up on me and offering the blessing of your grace and love.
I guess it’s a good thing (or maybe a God thing?) that JoAnns has their irons 30% off this weekend with an additional coupon for 10% off your entire purchase. I think I’ll be getting one, and then urging my mother-in-law to leave it in the box until I move out. I think I know which box in storage I can find my iron in. 🙂