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.

Believe and Trust

Especially in my last days at school, I spent my share of time crying in Neal's office (our campus minister).  I'd usually go in for chit chat and a hug, the conversation would change, and all of the sudden I was crying... again.  Shortly after that, we'd get to a point in when I no longer had a response, an argument.

I would sit and listen while he encouraged me truths about God.  We both acknowledged they were things I already knew but needed reminding.  I had no choice but to nod and agree as he spoke.  If my voice was strong enough or if I felt like I'd been quiet too long, I'd find the strength to whisper,

"I believe that."

It might have been more to convince myself than to convince him.

A few months later, I learned the New Testament word for believe: pisteuo.  It's a verb that can also be translated, "To put one's faith in" or "to trust."

Looking back, part of me feels like I was lying every time I told Neal, "I believe that."  Sure, I knew the truths he was speaking were indeed true.  I acknowledged them, I accepted them, but I was having a hard time trusting them.

After all, if I weren't struggling with trust, I would not have been in his office in tears.

It's hard to trust God when He's forcing you to give up a place you love long before you feel it's time to leave.  It's hard to trust God has a plan when all you're getting is rejection letters.

Honestly, not knowing what happens immediately after graduation, not having a plan makes me feel like a failure.

Maybe in an earthly sense I am.

But, I am leaning a lot about pisteuo.  A lot about belief and trust.  A lot about hope and peace.  A lot about clinging to God.

And that can never be called "failure."

I believe that!

<>< Katie

PS: I learned the word pisteuo from Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Tomorrows.  If you haven't read it, then I suggest you check it out.

Koolaid

I had my choice between going to church with Nikki or going to church with Melia.

Really, I was just happy to get to worship with my friends on a Wednesday night.

It was decided I'd go with Nikki so we could spend some extra time together before I had to leave.

The Bible study was good.  I learned.  I saw the congregation's hunger for the Lord, even though they make my grandparents look young.  I enjoyed time with my friend and listening to her pastor teach.  It was good.

When we got home, Melia was in awe of what happened at her church.  The more she spoke, the more I realized I made the wrong decision.  The scripture, the truths, the presentation seemed like God had hand-crafted that sermon for me... and I wasn't there.

I didn't ask why.  Rather, I was upset.

God, why wasn't I there?  You had the power to put me there.  I was torn on which church to attend.  It would have been very easy for the conclusion to have been the opposite, and I would have clearly seen Your hand.

I don't know why I wasn't there.  Maybe because Nikki and I needed some bonding time.  Maybe I needed to be encouraged by the old people eager to hear the Word.  Maybe the they needed to be encouraged by us youngin's.  Maybe "Uncle Bill" needed a new listener for his "the dog ate my hearing aid" story.  Maybe Melia needed to summarize the sermon for me.

Maybe it was selfish for me to have wished the evening had gone differently.

Do you ever do that?  Tell God He's the focus of your night but then get upset when He doesn't do what you wanted Him to do?

Guilty,
<>< Katie

PS: This post has nothing to do with Koolaid.  But it happens to be what I am drinking right now, and I could not come up with a better title.