We live an unbearable distance from the nearest Torchy's, and I love their queso more than I should. These are the facts.
After lunch, I ordered chips and queso to go.
When it arrived, I promptly spilled the entire cup all over the table. I told Philip this was the saddest thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life. Somehow he doubted it.
Just as I was attempting to process my grief (which looked like sliding wads of napkins around to form a pitiful pond of queso in the middle of our table), a waitress stepped forward with a neat and tidy to-go bag and cheerfully inquired, "You need chips and queso to go?"
I stuttered words admitting I had already received [and squandered] my order. She listened like, "Cool, cool. But since there is nowhere to set this down (table is queso lava), can one of you take it?" Philip smiled, took the bag, and said, "Thank you so much."
I know God loves me. Every day, I know this to be true. But sometimes when the remedy to my [ridiculous] situation arrives immediately as I'm mourning the mistaken mess ... my soul feels the divine comfort of a God who sees me and who is more than capable to meet my every [real] need.
❤
