You know, for me, the kitchen, a reflection of the heart, always seems to be a place to go to find happy; food and smiles! But, during this time it was different. My life, my home, my “kitchen” became less on the happy daily. Tears I cried weren’t from cutting onions, or laughing so hard I would cry; tears became more of like the steam from a stewing pot, never-ending. Sleep became non-existent because I was always in that hot kitchen, by choice, hovering over that steam of debilitation; joy evaporating.
Jesus Christ our Lord.
believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.