A “Chopped” Life

"Tonight's ingredients are: Chicken feet, poblano peppers, black radishes and Skittles."

If you think this sounds a bit crazy, you haven't watched the Food Network show, Chopped. On the show four chefs compete for ten thousand dollars by creating dishes using only the ingredients they are given in a basket. These ingredients are often unusual and meant to stretch the chefs' skills to make something that tastes delicious and looks good. The best moments on the show are when the ingredient baskets are opened and the chefs' expressions are shown. How do you make chicken feet with talons attached look or taste good. (On a cautionary note, always remove the talons before serving. Your food shouldn't injure your guests.)

Recently, I was thinking about my life. Right now, it feels like I am waiting for several things to come together. Everything feels unfinished. Tony is almost done with his schooling. We are almost married. I am waiting for the bank to complete my loan modification. I have plans to finally follow my own personal call. But I can't start quite yet. I have opportunities at work which don't seem to make sense right now. While I am not tied to the past, it is also part of my decisions. It is harder to follow a call with a mortgage, two kids in college and a third who needs braces. How does this all fit together? It feels like I have been handed a bunch of puzzle pieces but no picture on the puzzle box.

Similarly to the chefs on Chopped, we are all thrown a basket full of ingredients. The good, the bad and the ugly are given to us, then God asks us to do something with all of it. The passage from Romans comes to mind, "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" Romans 8:28 ESV. Somehow the contestants make Chicken feet and Skittles into an appetizer that will impress the most discerning judges. And somehow these seemingly chaotic and at times painful pieces of my life can through faith in God's redemptive work become something new. For now, I can trust that each piece has a place and wait in expectation to "taste and see" what God has done with my life.

 

 

Wisteria Victorious Part I

This blog was written 6 years ago, at the beginning of a great darkness. I share this now because the story didn't end 6 years ago, the final installment occurred today. Stay tuned for the next installment!

The first time I saw our home, I fell in love with the 100 year old Victorian. My romantic heart soared thinking about the sweeping staircase, multiple fireplaces and large front porch. Adding to the ambience was a magnificent wisteria vine which elegantly served as a natural curtain against both the morning sun and nosy neighbors. Instantly, I began imagining myself sitting in its shade sipping ice tea on a summer afternoon. We quickly made a bid on the house and soon it was ours.

However, my shady refuge was never to be. Before the ink dried on the contract my husband chopped down the wisteria vine. His pragmatic self had convinced my romantic self that an overgrown vine was neither esthetically pleasing nor practical for our new home. He correctly argued that the vines were in reality an ant super highway and the quickest way to a rotten porch. So I resolved myself to one less romantic ideal and sadly agreed to its sacrifice.

    Mistakenly, we thought a fierce pruning would be enough. However, the vine kept coming back. Its tendrils continued to grow. Almost overnight new growth appeared and spread across the flower bed. Hoping to encourage the vine remnants to rot, we poured five pounds of rock salt on it. Some of the root did rot away, and at first, there seemed to be no more new growth. As we prepared for our first winter, we thought we had seen the last of the wisteria. When spring came, I was excited to see my flowers returning from the winter's rest. Crocuses, day lilies, and hosta poked their heads out of the earth. And the wisteria peered out as well, waving its green and red foliage in the spring breeze never imagining it hadn't been invited to the party.

    In the end we tried many things to stop the vine from growing: weed killer, more chopping, and lots of pruning. Yet, still the wisteria returned. I soon found myself becoming sympathetic to this stubborn vine. The wisteria became a stubborn foe, refusing to surrender. Like Wile E. Coyote trying to catch the roadrunner, my husband would research and plan his next attack. This spring I thought he had finally found the way to the wisteria's demise. A friend offered part of his "stash" of extreme weed killer. This stuff had been in Tom's basement for years and was the kind that no longer could be purchased legally. He was almost giddy as we drove home, he could smell victory. I fussed about the welfare of my other plants. He said their sacrifice would be for a worthy cause. With a vengeance, he doused the roots with the contraband spray.

    A month later, I took stock of the damage in my flower bed. Several of my precious plants had indeed sacrificed their lives for this final battle. With great sadness I pulled up two azaleas, a gift from a friend. Two day lilies from a dear friend's yard were brown and dried up. As I pulled out the last dead plant, I did a double take. In the midst of all the devastation, the wisteria lived!

    Enough was enough I decided I couldn't risk the innocent death of any more plants. If we couldn't kill it, then I'd control it. I decided a trellis would do the trick. The "wild" vine would be contained away from the porch and look very pretty in the spring. I purchased an arched trellis from a catalog. With great anticipation, I looked forward to the spring and purple cascades of wisteria blossoms gracefully careening down the trellis.

    One week later, the vine demonstrated without any further doubt its true indestructibility. A pick-up truck ran into our front porch causing the entire porch roof collapsed. We were all shaken but safe. In the chaos of all the emergency workers, I surveyed the damage. The entire roof had fallen down; aluminum siding was hanging from the front of the house where the roof had once been. The porch floor, pushed off its foundation by six feet now leaned against our neighbor's house. My gaze suddenly stopped on the arched trellis still standing in front of the fallen porch green leaves waving at me. The wisteria had prevailed once again.

    The wisteria is victorious!

Reality TV and Free Will

Insanity has been defined as doing the same action repeatedly and expecting a different result. I have felt insane many times in my life – every time I start a new diet, at the beginning of every Pirate's season, or when I buy a lottery ticket. But lately, I have felt the most foolish when I watch reality TV. I fall for it every time.
Without realizing it, I fall for the illusion that the toughest, strongest, prettiest or most talented will win. Alas, "Big Barry" proved it again. There is no free will in reality TV.

Last night, "Big Barry," the 4'10" singer on America's Got Talent" was sent through to the next round in New York City. Leisure suit wearing Barry croons (perhaps crows might be a better word) songs and pokes fun at his lack of height. I am sure he is a nice man but has more gimmick than talent. As I put my hands over my ears during his performance, I
happily thought this would be the last time. However, Howie and Howard thought differently and put him through to the next round. Presently, I am not sure of the reasoning, but I will bet my left foot it has something to do with someone's idea of "good tv."

As a rational adult, I know TV is run by commercial viability. Producers want to induce conflict and highlight the good stories. Drama keeps viewers and sells products. The stakes are too high to not step in and control the results. Sure some things are unscripted AGT will now be decided by popular vote. But the producers are still in control of who made it to this point, how they are highlighted on the show, when they perform and perhaps even how the judges respond. All of which can influence the choices of the audience. And so I say again, there is no free will in reality TV.

Once again, I admit my insanity. But this thinking led me to thinking about God and free will. God is not a TV producer. His intentions are not based on ratings or profits or hidden agendas. While He has the ability to control all things, He chooses to allow us the free will to make our own choices. In fact, He allows us to choose to be insane and repeat our mistakes over and over again. God however is constant and unchanging. His holiness requires him to always act according to his character. My freedom is matched by his steadfastness.

So while the lack of free will on "America's Got Talent," dashed my hope in reality TV. The presence of free will in the world revives my hope in God. God doesn't coerce or manipulate, He allows each of us to choose. And while there is danger and uncertainty in that, there is also the safety and certainty of a faithful and steadfast Creator who is not influenced by money or popularity or ratings. So I am glad I put my trust in Him and not in Howie and Howard.

And it will be only a matter of time before my free will and the free will of many others will be exercised on "Big Barry."

Roller Coaster Envy

The other day I realized I have roller coaster envy. I don't covet the roller coasters of anyone else. Rather I am envious of those who can ride with carefree abandon. Throwing their arms up in the air and keeping their eyes wide open while they are hurled at 100 mph over rattling tracks. Standing at the bottom where you can view the pictures taken during the ride, these people look like they actually enjoyed it.

I, on the other hand, will never purchase one of those pictures. Since in my picture I look all scrunched up and white-knuckled with a deer-about-to-get-hit-by-headlights look on my face. Oddly, I actually like to ride roller coasters. When we go to an amusement park I will make sure I face my fears and take a ride on the wild side or Thunderbolt or whatever the name may be. Maybe I am a glutton for punishment or maybe I just like being with those who can ride without fear.

Perhaps this is also why I love stories about other people's faith. Stories in the Bible about Elijah, Daniel, Esther, Noah and Isaac have always been my favorite. These men and women of faith lived boldly in their belief that God was in control. They didn't cower and run from difficult times but made choices which put them in physical danger or had them face public humiliation. I am envious of these people as I try to live a safe life. I profess a faith when I am secure and comfortable but pray hard to be saved from the trials I see around me.

The giants of faith ride through life on a roller coaster with their arms in the air knowing that God is in control. These are the stories that inspire me to live my own life with a faithful abandon. A life marked not by a need to keep myself safe but a life willing to face challenges with boldness. And my desire is when all is said and done, the pictures that remain will be of a life filled with joy and faith. Now, pictures like those I might even want to buy.