I went to my favorite place– downtown Franklin. But I decided to vary my routine a bit.

I didn’t go to McCreary’s this time. I instead chose to dine at Gray’s on Main. I had some chicken and waffles, which I found out was very highly recommended from the comments I read on foursquare.

I saw a movie this time– Captain America: The Winter Soldier (or as I like to call it, Captain ‘Murica 2.

It was everything I expected (in a good way). It even had Robert Redford, looking a bit older but still the same great actor.

When I go back, I might try Franklin Mercantile Deli. I haven’t been there in a while and I think it may be calling my name. Sometimes it’s good to stick with what’s tried and true and sometimes you need to branch out and try new things. In other words, don’t wear out your welcome.

Still, I have to confess that I am still way more blessed than I deserve. Life is still good, God is still great, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

C. S. Lewis wrote a short book about coming to grips with the death of his wife, Joy, from cancer. It really is an amazing, heart- wrenching read that is at times brutally honest and still beautifully written. Here’s an excerpt:

“Why has no one told me these things? How easily I might have misjudged another man in the same situation? I might have said, ‘He’s got over it. He’s forgotten his wife,’ when the truth was, ‘He remembers her better because he has partly got over it.’

Such was the fact. And I believe I can make sense out of it. You can’t see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears. You can’t, in most things, get what you want if you want it too desperately: anyway, you can’t get the best out of it. ‘Now! Let’s have a real good talk’ reduces everyone to silence. ‘I must get a good sleep tonight’ ushers in hours of wakefulness. Delicious drinks are wasted on a really ravenous thirst. Is it similarly the very intensity of the longing that draws the iron curtain, that makes us feel we are staring into a vacuum when we think about our dead? ‘Them as asks’ (at any rate ‘as asks too importunately’) don’t get. Perhaps can’t.

And so, perhaps, with God. I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted. Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face? The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can’t give it: you are like the drowning man who can’t be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear.”