I wake up before my alarm this morning. Fear pulls me out of my sleep, and it has plenty of troubling and accusing questions – as fear always does. Sure, it’s a good job, but do you realize how much more you could probably be making right now if you hadn’t stayed home with the kids all those years? It’s been a long time since he lost his job – how much longer before you’ll have to sell the house? Why did you ever buy it anyway? What made you think you were real people?

                The obvious, concrete problems aren’t enough, though. Fear likes to consider the problems that could be. So let’s consider the children, none of them actually children any longer. Three young adults now – all beginning their own lives, all making their own decisions. My illusion of control, the illusion that kept me sleeping sound and warm so many nights, is completely swept away. In my mind I’ve started referring to this as the “One Decision” phase. They could make one decision, one choice of action or inaction, and it could have life-altering consequences – most of which their young minds can’t even imagine. But my mind can, and it does. It imagines them all in vivid color, in full, run amok scope. And it presents those imaginings to me for my further consideration as I lay there in the dark, plus it throws in a little more guilt to spice things up. Why is she reconsidering that decision? Is he really going to choose that path? Did you even teach these children? Did you even try?

                Maybe you understand where I’m at; maybe you’re in that same position. The position of “I didn’t picture things turning out quite like this.” I blush to admit, but I genuinely believed that this section of life, this center part between young family and old age, would be easier. Sure, there would be menopause and what-have-you, but the hard work would be done, right? Children raised, career(s) established, eventual retirement well on its way to being funded. Time for a little slow down, a lessening of the work and worries of those younger years. I thought I was going to be at the top of the mountain, enjoying the view. Instead, I find a larger mountain looming in front of me.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

I have a particular memory that I cling to now when life threatens to overwhelm. It’s a memory of another day when worry and anxiety gnawed at me. It’s a memory of an unexpected gift of God’s grace. A time when I felt God whispering those exact words to my spirit. “But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

I had spent that day feeling like I was going to cry at any minute. And as someone who Does.Not.Cry, that meant being at a breaking point. I got home late, just relived that the day was almost over, but when I walked into the kitchen, I found a little white plastic basket of peaches, still warm from being out in the sun and then in my husband’s overheated car, sitting on the kitchen counter. Beautiful July peaches that were small and a deep, orange red color. I picked one up and smelled it, and it smelled amazing – sweet with just a hint of tang around the edges.

                Both boys were at home that evening, a rarity, and they wandered into the kitchen to say hey and see what was happening – if you understand that by “what was happening” I mean what food I might offer them.

                “Hey, are you going to make peach pie?” first son asked, spotting the little basket.

                “Well, yeah, that would probably be a good thing to do with that many peaches. I mean…not tonight, but, yeah, I’ll probably make a pie…”

                Second son was right behind him.

                “Oh yeah – you gonna make a pie?”

                “Probably… but not tonight…I don’t even have everything I’d need…”

                They both looked a little crestfallen, and my husband was shaking his head at them. And then a sudden realization struck me. I actually did have piecrusts.

                “Wait, I do have piecrusts in the freezer…”

                And then it was a thing. And they were not giving up until we had peach pie that very night – even though it was already almost 9:00 pm and the idea was absolutely ridiculous. But I didn’t feel like crying anymore. I had a project and I had to marshal my workers and get things happening.

                “Okay, get the piecrusts out of the freezer. Unwrap them so they can start thawing a little. And get the big pot out and get water started boiling. I need to find that recipe…”

                The recipe was found, and ingredients were gathered. There was a brief panic when we realized that it called for instant tapioca, which I did not have, but first son and Google assured me that cornstarch could be substituted. They were fascinated by the process of blanching the peaches to make them easier to peel. Truthfully, even though I believe I appeared thoroughly knowledgeable and competent in the ways of blanching, I had never actually done it before either (the directions were printed on the top of the recipe). It was great fun to split the thin peach skin with our thumbs and roll it off as if by magic, leaving behind a perfect, juicy little peach – not at all what they would have looked like it I had tried to peel them with a knife.

                We peeled peaches and sliced peaches and juiced a lemon and measured out sugar and nutmeg. The piecrust thawed enough to be rolled out. Of course it rolled out perfectly – it always seems to do that when it knows that it won’t have to leave the house or be seen by anyone outside my immediate family.

                By 9:15, that pie was in the oven. And just a little over an hour later we were enjoying hot out of the oven peach pie with vanilla ice cream. It was fantastic. It was runny and the bottom crust did not get cooked through – next time I’ll be sure to have the instant tapioca available, I think it would make a significant difference – but it was fantastic. The peaches were as delicious as they had promised to be, the top crust was golden-brown and flaky, and it was warm and fragrant and overrun with melting vanilla creaminess.

                I went to bed with a warm, happy feeling inside my stomach and my spirit. I would never have guessed that coming home late in the evening, then having to gather ingredients and bake and clean up, would feel so good. I’m certain that under normal circumstances it would have not made me happy at all. But this was different – this was an event, a sudden departure from the mundane, a shared goal with my boys. And it was different because it was most certainly grace. A sweet, gracious gift of God’s love delivered to me when I needed it most.

                God’s grace in that moment was certainly undeserved. Because of everything that had been weighing on my heart, because I had been feeling like a fussy child who no longer cares how their behavior affects anyone else, I had been rude to a dear friend that night at church. Someone who loves me and my family and has our best interests at heart. Someone who innocently asked about my husband’s job situation only to be quickly rebuffed because I just wanted to cry instead of talking to anyone.

But God responded to me with love and tenderness. He took me by the hand and said, “Here’s something you’ll enjoy, I planned it just for you.” And for that moment I was able to remember that everything was going to be okay.

In fact, that’s what I want to talk about, what I want this blog to be about – all the things that I need to remember, about God’s grace and his promises and the hope we have. I forget those things sometimes. I forget those things when I allow myself to be overwhelmed by life, by fear. But God hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still here, still with me – still with you – even in this uncertain section of life. Still guiding us through this sweet, messy center (yeah, still thinking about that peach pie…)