The last couple of weeks have felt a little bit crazier than usual. I have been feeling spent and trying to keep up the pace with all the different things that keep falling on my plate - none of them the piece of cake I have been craving all along! Because that is what I have been imagining during those stressful moments. Every evening, I find myself wanting to sit down and enjoy something sweet - brownies, or some sort of pie, maybe a cake. It is not just a sweet tooth antojo. I don't just want to be able to enjoy a delicious piece of dessert; I have also been craving the energy-giving and soothing experience that baking is to me.
It hasn't always been that way. Growing up, I had a love-hate relationship with the kitchen. My mom was the baker. She made some room for me early on as a helper, but when I reached my teenage years, I started to feel more like Daisy from Downton Abbey in Mrs. Patmore's kitchen. I wanted freedom to create! So, one Christmas season, I was given the freedom. I was in charge of making the sugar cookies. I don't remember exactly how things escalated, but I have this very vivid memory of my brothers sitting around the table, waiting for me to roll the dough, cookie cutters in hand, and me taking the dough, and just smashing that ball of goo on the floor screaming "this is (bleep)! Nothing (bleep) works out! we're gonna eat (bleep) because that's what this (bleep) is!" Mrs. Patmore walked in. The brothers gasped and gave me the is-this-good-bye-forever-sis? look. Mom picked up the dough, and said I was suspended from kitchen access for the day.
I would like to say that this was the only frustrating time in the kitchen, but things only got worse. Eventually, I was banned from all cooking at my house, only allowed in the kitchen to do my daily shift of dishes. It wasn't until I was away from home for college that I started venturing out and trying a few things here and a few things there. And then, after trying and failing, came trying and succeeding, and then doing and enjoying. Baking has become a place I go to when stressed out, when too tired, and when I have the extra time just for fun. I like being able to see something done, start to finish, and enjoy the final product.
I have been wanting to bake for the last ten days. The other day, I was busy cleaning the kitchen, hoping that once I was done I would be able to finally get to work, while listening to NPR. Between shows, there was a commercial where a soothing woman's voice (I wanted her voice, because mine sounds a lot like a frayed mom's voice) asked something like, "have you ever reached your destination and stayed in your car to finish listening to one of our shows? Have you waited five, ten, fifteen minutes before getting out of your car?... (I smiled, thinking guilty as charged). We call these driveway moments (clever, I thought), and we work hard to produce programing that makes you stop in your tracks." And with that last phrase, I suddenly became aware of a truth deep within my heart.
When was the last time Christ stopped me in my tracks? When was the last time I just sat, enjoying a little bit more of a sermon, or just a little bit more of a verse, or just a little bit more of His creation? Because I am very good at many things, but being still in His presence is something that does not come naturally. There I was, standing rag in hand, trying to make some room for what? The comfort of my expertise. The comfort of something tried and true. The relief of some closure, something I can manage and control start to finish.
I work hard and harder at the things I do best. Because if I am succeeding at something, I don't have to pay attention to how tired I am. I don't have to see how isolated and homesick I feel. I don't have to see how afraid I am about raising two sons. I don't have to deal with the feelings of frustration, or envy, or contempt that I have for those around me. And often times, like Martha in the story, I wallow, and ask for help... ask Him for help, yet miss out on the best part of all.
I finished cleaning, but a baby cried. I have not yet found the time to bake this week, but tomorrow is the husband's birthday, so I will get around to it. I have been thinking about what do driveway moments look like for me, though. Can I linger five, ten, or fifteen more minutes when He shows me something, instead of frantically running to the next thing?
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