There is this road in our town that I happen to frequent roughly twenty times a day. Not by choice. It’s a main drag, one that my neighborhood happens to be situated directly next to. For whatever reason, be it urban planning, proximity or just sheer dumb luck, everything my family needs is somehow accessed via this road. Both the middle school and the elementary school. The batting cages and the baseball fields. The gymnastics gym. The tollway entrance. The Starbucks. The (gasp) Target. Everything.
The actual name of this road is Eldorado Parkway, which sounds very nice and pleasant and all suburban-like. I, however, prefer to call it Highway to Hell. Because hell, my friends, is exactly where my attitude and behavior each and every day on this road should land me. Hell.
Now, I’m not going to play the victim here and justify my behavior (which we’ll get to in a minute) in any way. But I do want to paint an accurate picture of exactly what this road is like at any given time of the day. It’s, well, kind of hellish. It’s three lanes on either side, peppered with traffic lights for neighborhoods, fire stations and strip malls. It wasn’t always this way, as when we moved here nine years ago it was quaint and quiet and only mildly congested, but now at almost any hour of the day this road is a total cluster.
The speed limit is 50. But somehow it’s very hard to find anyone going anywhere close to that. They’re either going 80, weaving in and out of traffic like Batman OR they’re going 40 and checking their phones. Almost no exceptions. There are, for whatever reasons, almost always people who appear lost and are willing to cut across three lanes of traffic at the mere sight of the Super Target turn lane (As a Target lover, I totally get it. But plan ahead people. Plan ahead). Turn signals are mere suggestions and green doesn’t always mean go, but more, “by all means, finish up that text and then get to rolling.”
Y’all, I can’t even with this road.
This road can take me immediately from praise music listening, calm and peaceful Meaghan to creatively cursing maniac Meaghan in a split second. I can go from “Jesus, Jesus, you make the darkness tremble” to “What the actual *bleep* are you DOING? This is a school zone for *bleeps* sake”** in one breath. My best self does not show up on Eldorado Parkway.
It’s gotten so bad that somehow my sin has grown legs and morphed into little person sin like it’s contagious. Now when a light turns green yet everyone sits there oblivious to the change in traffic pattern, my daughter, who is EIGHT, will sigh and mumble “come on, people. Green means GO.” And while she’s both right and wrong at the same time (right in that yes, in fact, Green does mean go but wrong in that, well, patience is a virtue) I still feel more than somewhat chagrined at her complete absorption of my issue.
This road, frankly, is my sin Achilles Heel. It really is.
Which is pretty funny because just yesterday I was, I guess, not paying enough attention to the traffic light so somehow missed the green arrow indicating I was now able to turn. All caught up in, you guessed it, more praise music (“oh the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God” y’all) I just spaced. And the honks came. Oh yes they did.
And here’s what happened–I was all “people, I’m praising here. Sorry. Can’t I get a little grace? It’s been a rough day.” Yes, this all was communicated via a series of hand gestures (no, not that hand gesture) but, still, the heart of my reaction was my desire and expectation for grace. 
Oh wait…
Why on earth do I assume that the grace I was asking for, no expecting, is reserved only for me? Why can’t I give this very same grace freely to others? It was given to me for much worse infractions than a traffic violation, for sure. And heaven knows there are many others out there who might need it more than an over-tired housewife with a series of #firstworldproblems distracting her at the wheel? Right?
Y’all, Eldorado Parkway needs to be my Grace Avenue on the daily. It’s where I need to learn a pretty tough lesson. And fast. Grace, real grace, is not mine to own yet it is definitely mine to give away as it’s been given to me.
Grace is for the woman in the grey van who cuts across three lanes of traffic to get to Target. Just as much as it is for the woman (read: me) who responds by aggressively honking for approximately one solid hour.
Grace is for the person so bogged down in troubles at home that they forget their turn signal. And grace is for the person behind them who is sighing and using creative hand signals to indicate their disgust.
Grace is for the souped up 1997 Honda Civic with no muffler, a giant spoiler and exhaust that sounds like a jet engine going 75 miles an hour in a 30 as much as it for the little old lady who isn’t comfortable going over 40 in a 50 and can barely see over the steering wheel.
In life and on Eldorado Parkway, grace is the good stuff of life. Grace says “You don’t deserve it, but I’m giving it anyway'” and in both word and actions creates a space where love can bloom and peace is created. Grace isn’t reserved for our peaceful two lane country road moments. Grace is probably, in fact, more present and much more needed in our six-land super highway at rush hour ones. Grace, my friends, is a lesson I need to learn over. and over. and over. Because without it, nothing else makes sense. 
So off to Target I go. Traipsing down Eldorado. Filled with a good dose of humble patience, some grace and (hopefully) a lot less creative language.
And in the meantime, I’m sharing an old recipe that got somewhat lost in the shuffle because it was first shared in a meal plan (HERE) and not solo. Yet it deserves it’s own light. It’s the meal I make after a particularly busy afternoon trekking up and down Eldorado 6 times, back and forth, back and forth. It’s easy. It’s so darn cheesy (rhymes rule, y’all) and it is just a true crowd pleasing meal. I pair it with a simple green salad and call it a dinner but for my meat lovers out there, this is a great side dish as well. Perfect next to simple grilled chicken or steak, this easy Mac and Cheese can compete with a fancy steak house any day.
Keep in mind the recipe is for an Instant Pot, though I’m sure it could be made much the same in a conventional slow cooker (I’m guessing low for 2-3 hours but I would recommend researching other Crock Pot Recipes first) and would be good on the stove as well. I like the combo of cheese, but have truthfully used whatever I have on hand and as long as it’s gooey and salty and rich enough, no one knows the difference. It’s such a crowd pleaser. You really should be making this tonight. I promise.
Peace, love and grace all the dang day,
Meg
**Before anyone calls CPS on me for foul language in front of the kids I want to clarify there is a creative child-friendly road rage vocabulary with colorful phrases such as “oh Cheese and Crackers” and “Holy Fudge” I have been employing for years. I mean, they’re not 3 anymore so I’m not sure how entirely effective my subterfuge is, but still, I try.
Instant Pot Mac N Cheese
Ingredients
- 2 cups elbow macaroni
- 4 cups water
- 2 tablespoons butter
- 1 teaspoon ground mustard (sub dijon or yellow if necessary)
- pinch nutmeg
- Salt and Pepper to taste
- 1 cup milk
- 2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
- 1/2 cup fresh grated Parmesan
Directions
- Step 1 Add macaroni, water, butter, mustard, nutmeg, salt and pepper to the Instant Pot. Stir to combine.
- Step 2 Close lid and Seal.
- Step 3 Set to “Manual” or “pressure cook” (depending on model) for 4 minutes.
- Step 4 Once timer is complete, gently release pressure manually (be careful here).
- Step 5 Drain water, leaving just a tiny bit at the bottom for the starchy benefits.
- Step 6 Add milk and cheeses, stirring until melted.
- Step 7 Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper if necessary.
- Step 8 Serve and Enjoy!
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.