saving my life: pie.

Is it sad that as I sat down to write this post, I had to think -- really, really think -- about what's been saving my life this week?

Because I really couldn't tell you off the top of my head.

I'm just so tired. April's been a tough month, and I'm hoping May and I fair better.

Jordan and I have been going nonstop for the past 30 days or so, and I kept saying yes to things when I probably should have said no. I've been mostly muddling through, going through the motions, and it's taken its toll. This weekend, we're headed out of town with friends; next weekend, we've got tickets for JazzFest in New Orleans, and the following weekend, we have a wedding and a graduation out of town to attend.

I could cry just thinking about it all.

Don't get me wrong: These are all good, fun things. But for a girl who's mostly an introvert, the extrovert-ness of one event after another can be hard to handle, and I'm concerned May might be doomed from the beginning.

But I'm nothing if not determined (and stubborn!), and despite our already filled-to-the-brim month, I'm willing May to be better than April. I'm prayerful that I will have learned from April's mistakes, mainly, that a) it's okay to say no, and b) it's okay -- even necessary -- to take care of myself first.

This week, though, it's still April, and things have been rough. So on Tuesday, after spending an afternoon preparing invitations and banners for my cousin's graduation banquet, I went home to make a pie.

I had a lengthy list of other things I could have done, maybe even should have done. But instead, I looked at the clock and decided two-ish hours was enough time to enjoy the process of cooking dinner. It's not time I normally have, so I relished it. I plugged in the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, and I got to work on my pie.

Family members and close friends, of course, know: I am not a pie eater. In fact, I detest pie. I loathe it. This, as you can imagine, makes for difficult Thanksgivings, when virtually everywhere I turn, there are pies. No cookies, no cakes... just pies. I'll blame my hatred of pie for the fact that I've never actually made one, and certainly not one entirely from scratch, crust and all.

But Tuesday, I came to the kitchen armed with a recipe for tomato and corn pie, and because I have a terrible habit of failing to thoroughly read the entire recipe before setting my hands to chopping and cooking, I failed to even realize I was handmaking the crust. This accident actually worked in my favor; by simply proceeding step-by-step through the instructions, I didn't even have time to realize I should have been nervous about making my very first pie crust. Instead, I just read the directions, making for a nerve-free pie-baking experience. (I am a champion at reading directions.)

I rolled the dough without too much thought; I chopped nearly two pounds of tomatoes and slowly boiled corn. I had time to enjoy the process, which is rare. I didn't even panic when I realized I don't really have an adequate pie pan (see: hatred of pie) and grabbed my lone, shallow cake pan. (It worked just fine.)

Here's what happens when you don't read the entire recipe first: You don't really have time to panic. I didn't spend the entire cooking process concerned about my chilled dough. Instead, while I chopped tomatoes, I actually chopped tomatoes. When I rolled out the top of my pie crust and cut weird-shaped diamonds in it all wrong, I didn't get angry, didn't panic. I had time, so I started over. I didn't YouTube, didn't Google, didn't call my mom. I just went for it. And you know what? Not half bad.

My entire kitchen smelled delicious by the time 5:30 rolled around. I hadn't finished my Bible study, hadn't done a stitch of laundry, hadn't even made the bed, but you know what?

I didn't care. None of it mattered.

I had a homemade pie in the oven.

It was absolutely delicious -- even divine, perhaps -- and this week? Well, this week, it saved my life.

* recipe here