I was finishing up a very low-key, simple dinner Saturday night when I realized my entire range was covered in cooking vessels.

The tea pot which is used a few times most days and therefore has a permanent parking space. The pot used to make some popcorn earlier in the day for a snack and likely again before bed. The Dutch oven holding dinner’s hot potato salad started earlier in the day. The pot holding the almost forgotten kraut. The stock pot steeping my laundry soap. The Dutch oven holding boiled brats. And the griddle filled with browning brats. Whoa. That is a busy space.

It’s kind of reasonably representative of my life.

The permanent parking spot for the kitchen responsibilities. The pot ready for the popping moments in life that must be seized. The planned events ready and waiting for their moments of action. The forgotten events coming up to pace quickly as if they’d never been forgotten. The steeping, never finished laundry. The brats boiling over in frustration at one another from too much closeness in the cold months or too much fresh air and running as the days warm. And an overfilled plate with wants, needs, activities, and responsibilities popping all over the place, some reaching doneness faster than others. Whoa. My life is busy.

But I go back to that tea pot. That worn out, nearly tattered tea pot. Every morning I stand over it anxiously waiting for it to almost sound its whistle so I can pour almost boiling water into the press pot where I’ll be just four minutes away from that fresh cup of hot, warming, comforting cup of morning coffee. That $12-on-clearance-from-TJ Maxx tea pot has served us loyally for about 6 years.

And like I can relate its Saturday night location to the permanent daily kitchen responsibilities, I can more accurately relate it to my reading. My Bible reading.

When I am loyal in my reading, even on-the-go, I am warmed and comforted throughout the day. All the pots, pans, and laundry don’t weigh heavily. Or as heavily. There are pages in my Bible that are starting to get that tattered look. And I’m ok with that. Because, like the tea pot, I can replace the pages. It’s purpose doesn’t change.

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