When Life Becomes Cold and Rainy

Back in the fall of 2010 my husband and I were just finishing up our time at Fuller Seminary in Pasadena.  I had graduated a year earlier with my Masters of Divinity and he was about to wrap up his degree in December.  We started thinking about where we might want to live and work after graduation and what type of ministry jobs we’d search for.  We knew we didn’t want to wait too long before starting a family, and we were committed to not trying to work at two different churches for the sake of our family and marriage.  So we decided he’d look for the first full time youth ministry job and we’d pray there might also be an opportunity for me to work part time using my degree as well that would come along.  Through a series of interviews we ended up landing ourselves in Seattle, a place I had lived for 6 years and adored.  A place very very far from the heat and humidity of Florida my husband loved.  We packed our tiny apartment and headed north in January of 2011 to move into the beautiful new town house we’d purchased.  We were optimistic about this particular church—they had said a lot of things we liked in the interview weekend, we met wonderful people during our two trips north prior to accepting the job, and the pastor was incredibly interested in my skill set as well—promising to find ways for me to serve the church and use the degree I had just earned and gifts God had given me.  By the middle of February I started writing in my journal the words “oh my word I think we’ve made a mistake.”  In only a month we’d found ourselves completely exhausted trying to keep up with the pace of the youth ministry program they mandated Charles oversee and so much of his time was spent doing things he didn’t necessarily believe were effectively discipling students.  It was one event after another and quite frankly it was an absolutely overwhelming pace.  The months went by and things didn’t seem to get better.  We were both stressed, anxious, wondering how in the world we were either going to make this place work for us or how we were going to get ourselves out of here.  In May we found out we were expecting our first baby and in June they informed us it just wasn’t going to work out and it was time for us to go.  Abrupt, painful, a gift in disguise, being asked to leave this place was all of those things and so much more.  It took us months (years if we’re honest) to sort through all the emotions and try and put that season behind us.  

Our townhouse we’d purchased wasn’t near anything super remarkable but it was just down the street from a hole in the wall Vietnamese restaurant.  Since we arrived in mid-January and it kind of rains in the Northwest through May we had several months of my poor husband just being damp and cold all the time.  I was used to it and loved the weather there, but he didn’t quite as much.  Or at all.  I don’t know what prompted us to wander into this restaurant one day, I’m not sure either of us had ever had pho before, but the first time we came in out of the cold and found big steamy bowls of broth, noodles, meat and veggie pieces waiting for us we were hooked.  The salty broth was divine and the portions were huge. When things just got too hard and we had to get out of our house we’d look at each other and say “it’s time for some pho” and head off down our street, rain or shine, and order our usual.  I don’t actually think I’ve had it since leaving Seattle in the fall of 2011, but I can still taste it.  Somehow that simple bowl of soup would be the thing that would warm us from the inside out.  When both the weather and life felt too cold and lonely to handle, the small cafe with the warm air and steamy bowls of soup full of flavors foreign to our American tongues were what helped us get through.  Comfort food can be unique to each of us.  Some folks prefer rich and creamy pasta dishes, others enjoy bows of ice cream or bites of cheesecake when things are difficult.  God made us physical creatures with taste buds and pleasure centers in our brains that are activated when we consume something particularly delicious.  Do I think drowning every stress in life with food is healthy?  Of course not.  But I do believe God uses the physical things of this world to help us begin the journey of healing from painful seasons.  The soft squishy cheeks of a baby snuggled up against us, the smell of clean laundry, the sound of an ocean wave crashing on the shore, or the taste of a salty and warm bowl of broth, all of them can remind us of God’s goodness, of His provision when the darkness seems to overwhelm.  I don’t believe that season was for nothing.  I wouldn’t choose to re-live it, but leaving Seattle less than a year after we had arrived helped us land in a place that gave us some of the richest relationships we’ve ever known.  We learned a lot—what questions to ask in an interview, what red flags to look for in churches, and maybe most importantly how delicious and healing a warm bowl of pho can be in the dark days of a rainy winter. 

So I have absolutely no idea how to make pho.  I’m not sure if it’s difficult or one of those meals that’s actually so easy I’ll feel ridiculous when I finally try.  But I do know how to make some amazing soups, and when life feels cold and lonely a pot of warm soup simmering on the stove is exactly what I want to eat.  I think soup with a side of bread might be my true comfort food in life.  So today I’m sharing a recipe for a soup that brought me immense comfort during another difficult season in life—having a newborn.  I didn’t cope well with my first baby’s birth or newborn weeks for so many reasons and when I look back one of the things I remember the most was how hungry I was while nursing around the clock.  My mom came to help for 3 weeks when Aidan was born and then because I wasn’t doing well both she and my dad took turns flying back to Los Angeles multiple times over the next two months.  This was the soup she made over and over again at my request and is still the main meal I think of during those dark and sleep deprived months.  It’s a broth based soup like pho is and involves noodles and meat—but in this case tortellini and sausage instead of ramen and chicken.  It’s so fast and easy to put together and can easily be doubled to have leftovers for days.  

Rustic Italian Tortellini Soup by Taste of Home

3 italian turkey sausage links, casings removed
1 medium onion, chopped
6 minced garlic cloves
2 cans of reduced-sodium chicken broth
1 3/4 cup water
1 can diced tomatoes undrained
1 9-oz package of refrigerated cheese tortellini
6 oz fresh baby spinach coarsely chopped
3/4 tsp dried basil
1/4 tsp pepper
Dash crushed red pepper flakes
Shredded parmesan (optional, for serving)

Crumble sausage into a soup pot and add the onion.  Cook and stir over medium heat until the meat is cooked.  Add the garlic and cook 1 more minute.  Stir in broth, water, tomatoes and bring to a boil.

Add tortellini and return to a boil.  Cook for 7-9 minutes or until tender, stirring occasionally.  Reduce heat; add spinach, basil, pepper and pepper flakes.  Cook 2-3 minutes or until spinach is wilted.  Serve with parmesan if desired.