It started out as just another typical Monday morning. I got my four precious little cherubs up and ready for school, helped them make breakfasts and lunches, and got them out the door. My wife Liza was sick with a migraine headache, so she was laying down in bed. Because it was Monday – my day off – I had the opportunity to do some writing, read some other blogs, and see what was happening in the world of facebook. But as the day progressed, things got worse.
In addition to a terrible migraine, Liza was vomiting all day, and she wasn’t able to eat or drink or even keep down any pain medication to help her feel better. I did my best to help her be comfortable by bringing her cold cloths for her forehead, but beyond that, there was little I could do. As the afternoon wore on, I decided it was time to start thinking about making dinner. Liza had pulled a chicken out of the freezer (thanks to our fridge that had stopped working on the weekend, but that’s another story for another time), and it wasn’t going to last another day, so I was forced to develop some new culinary abilities and tackle my first roast chicken.
Having never cooked a roast chicken before (Liza does 90% of the cooking in our family), I did what any internet-savvy bachelor would do in my situation: I posted a cry for help on facebook!
So, into the oven the chicken went! How hard could it be, right? Well, I peeled potatoes, cooked some veggies (a nice little green bean & carrot combo), greeted the kids as they got home from school, and waited for the chicken to be done. Then I realized I don’t know how to make gravy! Sure, I’d seen Liza do it enough times before, but had never done it myself. So now it was time to bring out the big guns… I called my mom in Saskatchewan, and had her talk me through making gravy (thanks mom)!
When I pulled the chicken out of the oven, it looked something like this:
Not bad, right? Of course, that was before the absolutely brutal hack job I did on the chicken next (no photos will be forth coming). Seriously though, it was brutal. My eldest son made some sort of comment about hoping this pastoring job worked out because there would be little chance of making it cutting meat… But here’s what it looked like plated when it was all said and done:
Well, I must confess that it tasted a little bland compared to Liza’s roast chicken and gravy, but at least the kids didn’t go hungry tonight. So, we quickly got the food on the table at six (with thanks to my daughter Hannah for setting the table), and then the whirlwind began: I had to get my oldest daughter Tori out the door by 6:15, pick up her friend Amy and get them both to baseball in Tyndall (a 10 minute drive away), then get back to Beausejour to drive my son Caleb to our youth worship team’s practice at the church for 7:00, then go back to Tyndall and get Tori and Amy at 7:45 to get them (late) to worship practice. In the midst of the craziness of rushing through dinner, my son Austin spilled his chocolate milk all over the table:
But you know what? Through it all, I learned some valuable lessons:
I’m thankful for a wonderful wife who is an amazing cook, and does a great job of keeping the kids and I from going hungry. She is a hard worker who does so much for our family, and I’m so thankful that I’m not a single parent trying to do this on my own!
I’m thankful for an amazing family with great kids who love God, love their parents, and love each other (most of the time!). When I was running around all night taking my oldest two children to where they needed to go, Austin was at home cleaning up after dinner (without even being asked) and looking after his mom.
Today, I want to challenge you, no matter what spilled milk you might be facing today: Count your blessings, and be thankful for all of the good things in your life!