“There’s no heartbeat, ” the doctor explained. We had received this devastating news two weeks prior, but we hoped and prayed the machine was faulty or the baby’s heartbeat was too early to detect. So, we returned for another ultrasound, begging God for a miracle. But we didn’t get one. Grief is funny. One minute you think you’re fine and the next minute it sneaks up on you. One minute you’re laughing with friends at a restaurant and the next minute you’re in the bathroom stall drying your tears with cheap toilet paper. A family member asked me the other night if I was over my miscarriage. A miscarriage isn’t something you get over. It’s not a cold. It’s a child. It’s a future you envisioned. It’s a gift from God that almost happened. And I think that’s what makes it so hard—the almost part. The possibility was closer than my next breath. I don’t blame them. No one really knows what to say when someone suffers loss. They fumble over their words while we try to cover up our bullet holes with bandaids. The truth is, we hide our wounds because no matter how much someone loves you, they don’t really want to see them. They desperately want us to feel better. They want us to smile—to laugh and joke and act like everything is okay. But sometimes it’s not okay. Yet there is one person who actually wants to come close to our wounds. His name is Jesus. The Bible says that “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; he rescues those crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) The Message translation puts it this way: “If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.” The Hebrew word for God drawing near is karov , which means “close enough to touch.” In our pain, Jesus rushes to our aid. There is an intimacy with Jesus we can only experience in our brokenness. The Apostle Paul calls it “the fellowship of his suffering.” I’m not sure that’s a club I want a membership card to. But there is a depth of love we can’t comprehend unless we allow him access to our wounds so he can do what he does best. With a medic bag in hand, Jesus approaches. “ You don’t want to see this, Jesus. I’m a mess.” “ Yes, I do,” he insists as he pulls out the gauze. “You said you wanted to know me more.” “But I didn’t think it would hurt this much.” “I know, me neither.” Jesus whispers as his nail scarred hands wrap your wounds. We ask to be Jesus’ hands and feet, but we often forget what those hands and feet have gone through.

The Cornish pasty is a meat pie. Now as a kid, the idea of combining the words pie and meat together seemed like a mean trick. But fast forward thirty years, and Cornish Pasties are a Hurlbut Thanksgiving tradition. Pasties are known and loved throughout Great Britain. It's believed the pasty originated with Cornish tin miners who, unable to return to the surface at lunchtime, could still enjoy a hearty meal. With their hands often dirty from a morning's work, the pasty could be held easily by a "handle" at one end of the thick pastry crust, avoiding contaminating the pie. When laborers immigrated to the United States, they brought the pasty with them; Michigan's Upper Penninsula is also well-known for pasties. Maybe you're like us and you're not a huge turkey fan, or maybe you just want to try something different this holiday. I hope you enjoy this awesome recipe and please email me back if you try it!!! Crust Ingredients: 5 cups of flour 1 1/2 tsp of salt 2 1/2 ounces of shortening 1 stick of unsalted butter (cold) Pie Filling: 1 cup cubed skirt steak 1 cup diced rutabaga 1 cup diced potato 1/2 cup diced onion Seasoning Salt Pepper 4 brown gravy packets 2 eggs beaten Directions: Place the flour, salt, and butter in a large bowl. Using your fingertips, rub the butter into the flour and salt until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Work as quickly as possible to prevent the dough from becoming warm. Add 2 tablespoons of cold water to the mixture and, using a cold knife, stir until the dough binds together. Add more cold water, 1 teaspoon at a time, if the mixture is too dry. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and chill for a minimum of 15 minutes or up to 30 minutes. Gather filling ingredients and preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Divide the dough into 6-8 balls and flatten them into 6-7 inch circles with a rolling pin. Place the steak, potato, rutabaga, and onion in a large mixing bowl and combine. Season well with salt and pepper. Divide the meat mixture evenly among each pastry circle and place it on one side.Sprinkle with the gravy packet and brush the edges with the beaten egg. Fold the circle in half over the filling so the two edges meet. Crimp the edges together to create a tight seal. Brush each pasty all over with the remaining beaten egg. Place the pasties on a greased backing sheet and bake for 20 minutes. Lower the oven temperature to 350 F and bake another 20 minutes until golden brown. Serve hot with gravy for dipping. ENJOY!