Pizza Friday

The week comes to a slow, break pumping stop for us as Friday night sits clean and pretty in front of me like a fresh snow, untouched and ready to be enjoyed.  A choppy week of holiday fun right smack in the middle of the workweek, plus a slightly damaging ice storm that kept Andy working has got this particular Friday looking extra breathtaking.  
Pizza Friday has been a staple here for two years give or take, and tonight's no different.  I got my reminder text from Andy today with exclamation, "It's pizza night, babe!"
A tradition of sorts, unexpectedly formed to help ease this often times weary mama of five thriving humans.  Humans who request meals three (or more) times each day.  Who knew pizza Friday would turn into the comfort even my husband writes home about? 

So I watch the hook spin and work the dough cleaning the sides of the steel bowl as I remember the words my friend said to me today - "God's working something out of you, Emily, be patient."  There's something about the hum of the mixer that gets my mind spinning along with.  
Humble friends living life raw and unabridged, offering up praise and prayer whenever called upon.  The girl I met whose broken heart needs the touch of Jesus, I pray.  The child with the fear that needs overcoming.  The sleep I know I'll need with school being part of our week again.  Exercise and budget plans and the outreach ideas the children and I hope to add into our life pace.  All these thoughts like wisps of hope drifting up in prayer fashion to God.  He hears as I breath unorganized reflections of my day, giving all to Him to make order of and blessings from.   ​

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I plop two soft dough clumps onto my cutting board and preheat an unusually hot oven.  Sauce is made and shredded cheese blends rest sticky in their plastic bags.  Oiled pans, a stretch here and there and all around pressed down.  Perfect circles splashed with red and dusted with mozzarella and Monterey Jack, dotted with meats and veggies I slip two large pies into the oven for a heat blast.  
Comfort comes even as I prep this familiar meal.  Comfort in the pattern of it, the knowing what's next without even looking.  The same warmth that comes from every Friday night hits me now loud and clear.  There's peace in the routines of life.   
They pile in, those six people I call my own.  Slices are passed and melted strings of hot cheese drip down chins.  So we celebrate another pizza Friday just by being together to enjoy the predictable rhythm of an evening set apart in the simplest way.