Anyone Can Cook

I had everything for a sandwich out on the counter when I decided I wasn't in the mood for salami. I decided to prove to myself (and the world) that I can cook!

"Anyone can cook," as Gusteau in Ratatouille says.

I have never met Gusteau, as evidenced by his statement that anyone can cook. I think I fall in the category Remy argues, "Anyone can cook but that doesn't mean anyone should!"

I decided on a very basic meal and assembled my ingredients. I was in luck! We had everything.

So I began, step by step to assemble my--never mind, I'm not telling you what I didn't actually make.

It's not that I didn't want lunch. It's not that I didn't how to make lunch. It's not that I couldn't make lunch. No, it was the thoughts and questions rolling around in the back of my head.

How do I know when it's done? When it looks like you'll eat it. But what if it isn't done all of the way? What if I get food poisoning and die? It's not working. This isn't what it's supposed to look like. I did something wrong. This isn't safe.

So I changed what I was making. Bonus points for thinking on my feet, right? Yet the questions and doubts continued.

This doesn't look right. Will I smell it if it starts burning? What if I burn the house down? Where is the fire extinguisher? Is it supposed to do that? I don't think this is right. I'm not eating this.

I gave up. I turned off the stove, poured my epic fail into a garbage bag, and took it out to the street. Salami sandwich it would be.

You better learn to like P, B, and J because that's what you'll be eating for the rest of your life. Your kids will be the one with the mom who can't cook. You better make a lot of money so you can afford to eat out regularly because PBJ and frozen lasagnas are going to get old fast. Gusteau lied.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to smack something in frustration or cry in embarrassment. Maybe both.

The kitchen was littered with the dishes from my lunch fail and I sat at the table pouting, salami sandwich on my plate.

Katie.
Not in the mood, God.
Why are you listening to the enemies lies?
You mean the truths?
They're lies. You can cook.
Do you not smell that? Were you not watching me make a mess?
You are a mess. But a beautiful mess. Do you want to know what you did wrong?
I know what I did wrong: I tried to cook.
You didn't wait. Everything you did--except switching "recipes" in the middle--was correct. But you didn't wait. Cooking takes time. Learning to cook takes time.
If You're going to tell me it's like fishing, I don't want to hear it. Not a fisherman, fisherwoman nor a fisher-of-women. Sorry.
Why are you swallowing the lies? Toss them out like you did that half-cooked meal. Be done with them. All of them.

Can or Can't?

It has been a week of "can" and "can't."

I can finish all of these papers on time.
I can't finish all of these papers on time.

I can find time to go to the store.
I can't find time to go to the store.

I can breathe.
I can't breathe.

I can go to bed.
I can't go to bed.

You get the point.

On Tuesday, Neal asked us to think about the messages we are receiving. What messages are coming from God and what messages are coming from Satan?

Katie: You're the one telling me I can.  He's telling me I can't.
God: That was backwards.
Katie: No, it wasn't.  Satan's tearing me down; You're building me up.
God: Katie, you can't.  But I can.

Just in case you forgot: you can't, but God can.  Take a deep breath as you remember that this week.

<>< Katie

My printer is satan... well... sorta

My desk is currently a mess. I'm pretty sure there's wood holding it up, but at the moment you couldn't tell that by looking at it. In fact, the heap next to my desk currently consists of two newspapers, my Bible, three pads of paper, three books, two or eight old tests, my cell phone, a game card I'm "borrowing" from the coffee shop (they spelled "Indiana" like "Indianna", call me a nerd, but I was forced against my will to copy it for my "grammar oops" book!), and a plethora of other random papers. This thing is massive!

Last night, I plugged in my printer, told it to print my outline for small group, and walked across the room. Since my printer is up on a "shelf", it usually throws it's completed jobs onto the heap on my desk. Well, yesterday the heap was too huge. I heard the paper fall and knew it was done but the fall sounded huge. I turned around and what did I find: the printer threw my paper all the way across the room. Not just onto my desk. Not onto my chair. Not even onto the floor. No, all the way across the room (just goes to show the size of my room...)

As I bent over to pick it up, I realized the printer had achieved Satan's primary goal. Satan isn't happy to just to pull us away from God a little bit and throw us on the desk. No, he wants to throw us all the way across the room away from God so we couldn't reach Jesus if we tried.

Are you going to let Satan pull you away or are you going to stand firm?

In Christ,
<>< Katie

"Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we have become conscious of sin." -Romans 3:20