He is here and He is good

This little gem kept me company on the dozens of ours of train rides during Eurotrip 2013. I couldn't put it down.

One phrase stuck out to me more than anything - more than the recipes of American food, the tales of lakes and summers and sunshine that I longed for, the stories of families and friends that I hadn't seen in months.

There was one phrase:
He is here.
Here is here and He is good.

It'll likely end up painted on canvas in my kitchen sometime soon, overlooking the table.
The place that holds us together, feeds us, and reminds us of our own humanity.
The place of hard conversations with held hands and hot cups of tea, warm laughter over heaping plates of pasta and salad, Pinterest projects and homework projects and glue and string and tomato sauce.
It's a place where food, time, and words all pass, allowing for a community that all can be a part of.

I was in a friend's kitchen last night stirring onions, zucchini, and garlic together in a skillet as noodles boiled and the music blared.

And there it was: an explosion far off, but too close.
Sirens wailed within minutes.
We peaked outside, waiting.
After the events earlier this week, the whole nation is on high alert.

I went back to the stove, back to the comfort of rhythmic stirring and waited.
Waited for dinner to be ready.
Waited for an email telling us to close our doors and stay inside.
Waited for the smell of smoke or an all-clear or anything.

And then through the corner of my eye, I saw my friend running towards the siren wails.
And so we chased her, chased her to a car accident that looked like nobody could have survived.

Completely flipped, crushed in, slid across the black asphalt, loud enough to hear from a block away.
And a girl sitting in the grass, a thin line of blood dripping down her leg.
She stands, seats herself in the gurney, and heads off to the ER.
But she can't be the driver. She can't have actually been in that car.

The tow truck comes.
Flips the car over.
Flips it over and reveals an entirely crushed passenger side, and an intact driver's seat.
A space of safety. A hedge of protection.

He is here.
He is here and He is good.

So we go back to the table.
The place where God always is.
The place where we break bread regardless of what has happened this day, because we still need food and we still need Jesus even when hopes and dreams and relationships and grades and cars are crushed.
And we believe that He is good - even when all goes wrong, even when all goes right.