The timelessness of cast iron and linen.

Cast iron, linen, and baked bread. These are a few of my favorite things.

Our family has been under the weather this week, passing around flu symptoms like Baptists pass the offering plate. (No, it’s not COVID, thankfully.) I refuse to believe our sickness has anything to do with our sweaty romp in the snow last weekend. (Don’t even think of proving me wrong.) But it has everything to do with bare-bones lesson plans, the persistence of pajamas and movies, and the comfort of piping hot homemade chicken and rice soup with a side of fresh-out-of-the-oven bread.

My thoughts in quiet moments this week have wandered heavenward, where one day every tear will be wiped away, the old made new, every pain soothed, and we’ll finally see Jesus, the One our souls were created for. Clinging to the hope of Heaven does not make the pain of Earth any less jarring, less wearisome, less real. It only makes it more temporary.

Clinging to the hope of Heaven today.