Tornado.

When I got home from work last night that's what my husband said they were warning about on the weather.  

Tornados.

For Sunday.

The day I am expecting 100ish people to come to my house for my annual Recipe Tasting.  This is supposed to be a front yard event, not a stack-people-in-my-garage-basement-kitchen-livingroom event.

But, really, it only seemed fitting that the weather should mirror my week.  It's been a bit of a tornado, whirly and twirly.  Partly stressful and destructive and brutal and partly amazing and magnificent to behold.

This week I've had so many experiences, some terrible and some mediocre and some so precious I can hardly stand it.

I've screamed at my kids but also heard them tell me random "I love you"s.  

I've been to the grocery store literally EVERY DAY except one. 

I've stayed up late cooking with two very dear friends from work.

I've stayed up late on a different night cooking with two other very dear friends, one with her new foster baby strapped to her chest, the other exhausted from working 12 hour days to help get the Lancaster Sweet Shoppe up and running.

I've sobbed alone in my kitchen after hearing about a loved one's dream ending.

I've talked about one of my greatest fears with a virtual stranger.

I've made dough so soft it'll make you swoon.

I've written and rewritten and rewritten lists.

I've dropped a full container of soup and said a bad word as I watched it run across the floor.

I've driven with the windows down and the radio up and smelled the sweet summertime honeysuckle.

Photo cred on this one goes to Aunt Lynette.  I stole this from her Facebook page.

I've felt disappointment with a friend who got passed over on a job opportunity and I've felt deep sadness when I heard about a marriage in trouble.

I've sat poolside with my sister and mom, swam with my niece and kiddos, talked about football with my aunt and uncle, and hugged my grandma tight.

I've watched my husband mulch, mow the yard, clean out the garage, and pressure wash the house to help me get ready for my harebrained recipe tasting.

I've watched my sons play baseball, delivered fundraising subs, and met a neighbor for the first time.  And I was chatty.  Wonders never cease.

Why am I telling you all this?  I'm not even really sure.  I guess this week I've just been feeling very All.  Feeling All the emotions.  Doing All the things.  It just blows my mind that such vastly different feelings and experiences can all happen in the very same week.  Some within the very same 24 hours.

I think, also, I've just been feeling very connected to people lately.  Seeing lives intersect.  Letting go of how I think things should be and giving people space to be who they are.  Learning that just because I do things one way doesn't necessarily mean you are wrong if you do things a different way.  Remembering that just because I am an introvert doesn't mean that I don't need people.

And I've been thinking about joy.  About thanksgiving.

I knew at the beginning of this week that my hours were going to be very full.  That I wouldn't get as much sleep as I normally do.  That much was required of me if everything was going to get done.

Honestly I was dreading it.  But I spent time praying that I would do this week with joy.  With thanksgiving.

I'm not sure how God answered my prayer.  I've definitely felt joy this week but I've also felt grief and disappointment and sadness.

When I first got the word "eucharisteo" tattooed on my finger it was dark and bold and whole and I loved it.  It was fresh and clean.  Kind of like how we start off in life.  Full of hope and dreams.

Two weeks ago I was a greeter at church.  I really love being a greeter (I know that doesn't sound like introverted behavior.  I'm complicated.  And totally ok with that).  I love seeing people all smily walking into church.  I love complimenting people on how nice they look and seeing their faces light up.  I love it when little kids run right past me and my outstretched hand.  I really love it when people hug me instead of shaking hands.

On this particular morning my friend, Mike, came thru my door.  We shook hands and exchanged good mornings and he started to walk away but then turned back around and pointed at my tattoo.  "It's coming off," he said.  And I gave my standard answer, the tattoo parlor people said it might fade, the skin on your hands is different, blah blah blah.

But really, I love the way it is now and I wouldn't change it.  It's not polished or shiny or new anymore.  It's worn and broken.  But it's got character.  It says 'I might not be like I was at the beginning but I'm here to stay.'  It's like real life.  Hard things happen.  Terrible things.  Stressful things.  Our hearts get worn and broken.  But it gives us character.  Pain shapes us and Jesus accepts our thanksgiving, our eucharisteo, no matter how it comes out.

I blog about this all the time, how Jesus is not afraid of our emotions.  I keep coming back to it again and again because life is just full of All the things.  Up and down and back and forth.  But even when life is tornadoing all around us, even sweeping us up into the funnel, Jesus is constant.

I love Romans 8 where it says that "neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus."

I don't know what all your week held.  Maybe it was a very normal week.  Maybe it was very bad.  Maybe it was very good.  Maybe it was a tornado week.

This is what I do know:  we need each other.  To laugh with, to cry with, to learn with.  

If you brave the weather tomorrow to come eat my food I hope you enjoy some good fellowship as well.

And I'm gonna hug each one of you.