by Jason Tsaddiq
“Good morning, Lord; I’ll be right there.”
After I showered and made myself somewhat presentable to other humans, I met the Lord in the kitchen as I poured the cure-all for all that ails mankind into my favorite mug and began to stroll back into the living room to “officially’’ begin my day with reading His word and having a full conversation with Him. However, He didn’t follow me into the living room.
“Um, Lord?”
“I think we’ll stay here in the kitchen this morning. Don’t you have supper to prepare?”
“Oh, dear! I forgot to plan supper. And I’ve got to teach all day. Wonder what’s in the fridge?”
“Well, let’s look. Oh, what in the world is this?”
“Oh. Well, Lord…. It’s like this…..um.”
“Yes, I see. It’s something that needs to be discarded into the trash immediately, isn’t it, My child?”
“Yes, Lord; You’re right.”
“Okay, now that the odor is out, let’s find something profitable to prepare for your family. Ahh, carrots and celery. Here, lay those on the counter. Prepare a cutting board and a knife and I’ll get out the crock pot.”
“Carrots and celery? I was hoping for prime rib, Lord.”
I thought I heard Him snicker. “You’re not on Bill Gates’ budget; you teach at a Christian school, remember?”
As we worked side by side, we chatted – about my family and their needs and desires, about the neighbor lady who is struggling, and of course, the preacher and his family.
“Argh! I cut my finger with this knife! Great! Now I’m bleeding all over this carrot. Where’s a clean dish towel when ya need one?”
“My child, be still. Does panic actually help the problem?”
“No. You’re right, Lord. I’ll stand still and watch you heal this and then I’ll rinse off the carrot. Uh…hmmm….a bandaid? Th..tha…that’s ..that’s all you’re going to do? Your Word tells that You healed a gazillon people; why aren’t you healing this cut? Lord, You’ve raised the dead, made the blind see, and the lame walk. Why can’t you heal this little ol’ cut?”
“Not all my children have the same needs. You, Dear, need to be hindered today. You need to be aware of a particular fault in your humanness. If you waltz through your day with nary a care, you’ll forget Me; won’t you?”
I nodded in agreement, head bowed, tears threatening.
“Ok. Now for the onion. Please, My daughter, grab us an onion.”
“Oh, no, Lord. My family doesn’t like onion. They’re pretty picky and all.”
“But I know what is best for you and your family. Now we can stand here and argue, not getting My will accomplished or you can just find an onion for the pot.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Let’s look through the cabinet and see what other items will be good for this soup. Ahh, yes. Just what I was looking for. Your face shows Me that you disapprove of this item too?”
“Um, well. I don’t really see how that flavor is going to mix well with the others. I guess we’ll try it Your way.” I tried not to roll my eyes in front of the One Who sees all.
“Now, the vegetables are in the crockpot. Where are your seasonings and spices?”
“Uh, well, Lord, that cabinet’s rather messy and disorganized. Let’s just skip the seasonings and um, well, ya know, like they say on the Food Network, ‘let the flavors marry.’”
“The spice cabinet, please.”
“Yes, Lord,” as I cautiously, ever-so-slightly opened the door, knowing what would happen.
It did. Garlic, onion powder, parsley, basil, poppy seeds, mustard seeds – all tumbled out, spreading themselves on the counter and some even bouncing onto the floor.
“Hmmm. Not all of your kitchen is in order, is it? Is there a reason?”
I hesitated, full knowing that He knew my thoughts and intents.
“Well, Lord, I just get busy sometimes and I let some things go; I can’t do everything, ya know, right? I’m only human.”
“Who has asked you to do everything? Who has given you your to-do list?”
“Well, I saw on Pinterest all these cute little things I could do to re-decorate the bathroom and I’ve been overwhelmed with all that and work and family stuff and church stuff.”
“Didn’t I ask you to organize the kitchen the last time we met? I didn’t need your bathroom re-decorated. Why did you choose that chore instead of the chore I asked of you?”
“Lord, I just thought….”
“’You just thought’? Are your thoughts and plans better than mine?”
Ashamed at my disobedience, I bowed my head.
“Now, please add a little salt.”
“Salt? But Lord, salt stings.”
“Yes, I know. Now some pepper.”
“Pepper? But my family doesn’t… Oh, never mind.”
“Now the parsley.”
“Lord, You know all things but parsley sticks in my teeth and I have to stand in front of students and it’s quite embarrassing to have little green flecks stuck in your teeth. Could we use something different?”
“You’re embarrassed about little green flecks? Have you heard about My children who are being persecuted because they claim My name and you’re worried about little green flecks? Do you want to put it in or should I?”
“Oh, no, Lord; I’ll submit.”
“Let’s turn on the pot and go about My business for the day.”
“Are you sure this crock pot won’t catch the house on fire while I’m gone all day?”
“Who made the metal that makes this crockpot? Who made the materials to build this house? Who made you healthy enough to earn money to purchase this house?”
He paused. “And don’t you think it could catch on fire when you’re here? Does your presence protect this house or does Mine?”
I was catching on. Somewhat. I should just do what He says to do.
We drove to school, singing His praises to the radio. Well, I tried to sing and He just listened with a “That’s nice, little girl” look on His face. I was honored though; He could’ve been listening to Ray and Ann Gibbs or a Scovill or Dr. Beal or Mina Oglesby but He was listening to little ol’ me.
I scurried to gather my briefcase and other supplies and rushed to my first hour class, still wondering about the crock pot. How was the soup going to taste, especially with that ingredient of which I didn’t approve?
“Oh, no, Lord; we didn’t put in any meat. The kids need protein for their growing bodies. Oh, the whole meal is ruined!”
“Meat? You want meat? ‘My meat is to do….’” He left the sentence undone. I knew what He was saying: “Do My business and your life will be just fine.”
Teaching is exhilarating. Exhausting, but exhilarating. Except for that one student. He knows everything; at least, he thinks he knows everything.
Out loud, I said, “Now, a gerund is a verb-looking critter acting as a noun.” Inside, I said, “Lord, he’s raised his hand again. This is the fourth time just this hour. Will You protect me from a law suit if I don’t answer him every. single. time. he raises his hand?”
“Don’t I answer you every. single. time. you raise your hand?”
Out loud, I said, “Franklin, do you have a question? I’m ready to answer it now.”
The day hastened by: busy, busy, busy – answering questions, helping with make-up work for previously absent students, a speech recital practice, a conversation with a colleague – all the while, I was thinking, “Vegetables and salt and pepper and low heat all day? Oh, and that parsley?! I might as well stop by Bojangles on the way home ‘cuz there’s no way that crockpot meal is going to be satisfying.”
And the One Who knows my thoughts simply asked, “Are you trusting me?”
The school day was over and my weary mind was glad! My hungry body was nervous: was supper coming from Bojangles or from the crockpot? Was I going to be fed from His recipe or from mine? Yes, the choice was mine. The power was His.
As I walked into my house, the heavenly aroma of an already-prepared feast awaited me. Oh, the lessons I had learned: God doesn’t need to meet me at the couch to fulfill my needs; He can meet me anywhere, even in the kitchen. My time with Him must begin with removing the moldy, old sin that’s been hiding in plain sight. He works with each of His children on their level to meet their individual needs. I must obey His commands for future projects to be accomplished smoothly. Embarrassment is nothing when compared to doing His will. And probably the most important lesson: “All things work together for good to them who love God.”