So I've been trying especially hard to be open to spiritual healing, because I am realizing more and more that I have enormous trouble trusting God all over this - not intentionally or mentally, but emotionally; He hurt me and I really can't let go enough to give Him a firm hold on my life because I am afraid He will hurt me again. And I've been praying, especially, for guidance. Paying attention to the little things God is trying to tell me to which I am not open. Because I'm so lost.
I got home from a spiritual reflection evening (really a wonderful opportunity) at 9ish and, after gathering my courage huddled under a blanket on the couch for a few minutes, set about making dinner. The DH ate all the tomato sauce, so I had to make cream sauce, and I wanted a vegetable, and discovered my eggplant that I had been saving for Friday (no meat, remember). I figured I'd cut up the eggplant, salt it, and roast it with balsamic vinegar while I was cutting up the cooked chicken, boiling the pasta, and making the cream sauce - and then I'd be ahead for tomorrow. An excellent plan.
After the pasta was entirely finished, I hauled the eggplant out of the oven, because I realized it was darkening on top too fast. I put on some Italian dressing (guilty shortcuts!) and grabbed the two hot handles of the glass dish with my towel and slid it back in the oven, this time going for the bottom rack for a slower approach.
I don't know how, but the dish flew out of my hand and landed on the bottom of the oven. Miraculously, the glass did not break, even though it landed straight on the metal in a 475 degree oven (maybe because the dish was already hot too). So I fetched it out. But three quarters of a large eggplant - in small, half-cooked pieces; along with some quantity of balsamic vinegar - is all over the bottom of my oven. The bottom, not the bottom rack. A 475 degree oven. So I left the door open and turned off the oven. I'm good that far. But tomorrow, I am going to be scraping dozens of pieces of partially cooked, seared eggplant off the inside of the bottom of my oven for half the day. Plus I have far too little eggplant left for tomorrow night's dinner - and what I have is half cooked. (I want to interject at this point that I am really angry about all this, but I did not use any bad words.)
I confess I am a klutz, which is why I know that this mishap is spectacular and unjust. Because I am the mistress of my kitchen; I man the knives, the flames, the frying pans, the oven. And I have never done anything remotely like this before. I'd also like to point out here that I was doing extra work to observe the Lenten abstinence from meat.
Are you trying to tell me something here?