Life happens.

Some days look like this.

From HKWF Photostream

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I managed to bang out a few post in the short time I was home between Samoa and New York, but since then…nothing. Sometimes, it’s just hard to muster up the energy. Life gets in the way, and something else always seems more important.

Catching up with people – important. Flying to Denver to be with your friend as she goes through one of the hardest times in her life – important. Finishing a training manual for a human rights clinic – important. Passing an exam – important. Spending hours with a friend in the hospital – important. Holding a hand, giving a hug, doing another practice problem, answering the phone – important.

Taking bad pictures and putting up recipes that no one uses? Not important. Jabbering on about my life in a forum few people read and by which even fewer people are impacted? Not important. Feeling guilty over the lack of updates? Definitely not important.

I haven’t even been cooking that much. It’s a little sad, because I love cooking. But the pile of dishes seems overwhelming and everyone is gone. Cooking food no one wants to eat is a little depressing. One of my absent roommate’s fiance came over the other day, and he and I and another friend made my dad’s famous sticky buns, and that was great. Someone wanted to eat them.

I cook because I like feeding people. It’s a simple connection with friends and strangers and random people off the street. I cook because it’s real. Everyone has to eat. I don’t cook to take fancy pictures (which I am actually incapable of doing) or to be impressive or to become the next Rachael Ray or whoever just won Top Chef or Cake Boss or any of those other shows of which I have never seen a single episode. I cook to feed. And lately, there’s been no one to feed.

I’ve been thinking a lot, too, about blessings, and health, and opportunities, and trials.  The other day, I was feeling sorry for myself, because I didn’t feel good, and I was lonely in my tiny little apartment while the ambulances went by outside, and I was not studying well and I was out of potato chips. Then I spent three hours in the hospital, on the other side of the curtain, as a friend. I watched someone in true pain, whose mortality is hanging in front of them. I left the hospital, and walked a few blocks to drop off dinner for someone from my church whom I’d never met. He’d had surgery and his life was overwhelming him with responsibilities and  weaknesses and the need to always be strong and the harsh reality that he couldn’t fix everything at that moment. That day was my “slap in the face with a wet fish” day. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Don’t pretend things are always the perfect day or that nothing hurts or that you love studying or that you don’t mind sitting on your bed alone for the fourth night in a row or that you really want to spend three hours standing in heels behind a doctor who doesn’t quite know what to do with a fourth year medical student, because if you pretended all that, you’d be lying. But recognize that those are minor trials. Minor tribulations. And you’ve got major blessings. Blessings are growing on trees and you’ve been given a free-for-all, u-pick pass to the orchard.

So things might be a little different around here. Those photo links that don’t work? I’ll get to them. Eventually. Regular posting schedule? If it happens, great. Primarily a food blog? Probably not. Life is happening, and food is a part of it, but it’s not the everything.

Other days look like this.

From HKWF Photostream
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