Has this ever happened to you?
I decided to make scrambled eggs and English muffins for breakfast this morning. My sweet hubby routinely asks if he can help me with the meal by putting the muffins in the toaster. I really appreciate the assistance because I enjoy cooking with my husband. Toast is his specialty! Hubby was distracted for a moment by a sound in another room and left the kitchen just about the same time I heard the toaster pop up. The muffins were dark, “almost burnt”, I thought. I put the darker muffins on my plate without hesitation. I’ve always taken the broken yolks, the too ripe fruit or misshapen pancakes, etc… It all tastes the same to me and I hate to waste food. That’s just what moms (and wives) do, right?
After we ate, hubby thanked me for the meal as he always does, but decided he was still hungry and went into the kitchen to make another muffin. “You might want to adjust the toaster”, I yelled to his back as he walked away. “The first muffin was a little brown, so I ate it.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around. “Why did you take my muffin?” he growled. “I made it dark and crunchy on purpose because I was in the mood for crispy toast! I settled for the muffins because there was no bread!”
First of all, of course there was bread (he just didn’t look in the fridge), but secondly, it goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished.
While we are on the topic of food, suffice it to say that my family expects me to go all out for the holidays and special occasions whenever we get together. I especially enjoy making the family their favorite foods.
For example, the best way to Hubby’s heart is good, old-fashioned Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken Pot Pie. Our eldest likes Snickerdoodle Cookies, those yummy buttery cinnamon crisps made from Grandma Carlson’s original recipe. The second son is a big fan of the BBQ, all kinds of meat, carnivore all the way as long as it is cooked over an open fire. The middle child looks forward to “Pavlova”, the delicious fresh whipped cream and meringue “fruit pizza” from Australia for dessert. The fourth son always asks for spicy spaghetti with kielbasa sausage, so hot it make the tears flow! His twin sister craves slow-cooked beef roast and root veggies as her “comfort food”. I take great pleasure in cooking for my family, pouring my heart and soul into every meal.
Several years ago our second son offered to host Thanksgiving dinner at his new home in Colorado. Long hours were spent in the kitchen creating the perfect feast! Still, my precious daughter-in-heart (the lovely gal my son married that was born of my heart, not my body) looked a bit confused as we were putting the food on the table.
“Gee Mom. I hope your son won’t be too disappointed that you didn’t make his favorite holiday side dish. This entire week he’s talked about nothing else but your famous Green Bean Casserole.”
Folks, in my entire life, I swear I have never, ever made a green bean casserole! My son insisted that I used to make it for every family occasion and pot luck supper when he was growing up, and no amount of support from Dad that “Momma doesn’t do green bean casserole” would convince him! My son wasn’t really upset (it has become a family joke), and the dinner was actually quite lovely, but in my mind all the other delectable offerings on the table were secondary to the absence of the creamy green vegetable. Had I known that the green beans were such a big deal, I would have attempted (for the first time, mind you) to make them. No good deed goes unpunished.
When I was actively working as a midwife in the 80’s I often would attend home births with my midwife partners. We would agree to take turns; one would “catch” while the other created a soothing, relaxing atmosphere during the labor and birth for the mother, father and anyone else invited to join us.
I remember very clearly a particular couple that desired to have their four year old daughter present at the birth of their second child. “I really want a sister” she would tell us matter-of-factly. Her parents said “Angel” would often remind them that the new baby was definitely going to be a girl, insisting the baby nursery had to be decorated in equal amounts pink and blue!
During our home visits throughout the pregnancy my partner took great pains to reassure Angel that none of us had a choice in the matter and that it was up to God to decide what “kind” of baby was coming. The pretty little girl would just smile at us (as if we were idjits) and repeat, “Oh, it’s going to be a girl”, and would not entertain another possibility. Talk about faith!
As the time for the birth got closer her mother mentioned that her daughter was especially mindful and respectful, helping with chores and (uncharacteristically) going to bed without a fuss. Every night Angel would “thank God for my new baby sister coming soon”. I remember laughing with the parents as we admitted to each other that we all were praying for a baby girl so she would not be disappointed!
The day came for the baby’s arrival. Mom labored easily from early morning into the afternoon. By late evening it was clear the birth was imminent. Angel had been a real trooper throughout the labor, bringing Mom and Dad sandwiches and cookies, giving backrubs to everyone and playing quietly with her toys in the corner of the bedroom when things got “tense”. My partner and I were so amazed at the maturity of the young child to handle the birth sights and sounds, even going as far as congratulating each other for including her as our “helper” to make her feel a part of the birth.
The birth, Praise God, was medically uneventful, peaceful and utterly spiritual as births are intended to be except that the baby turned out to be a nine pound bouncing baby boy! The parents celebrated the healthy child, but as for the new big sister, well, not so much. Angel was not only disappointed, she was angry!
“That’s not fair! I wanted a sister! I asked for a girl! Send it back! Send it back!” The little girl threw such a tantrum (a typical four year old reaction to disappointment) that my partner and I were genuinely concerned she would hurt herself as she hurled to the floor time and time again.
Her mom said “Don’t worry. She will be just fine. I guess she felt like no matter how good she was, or how much she prayed, it just wasn’t enough.” No good deed goes unpunished.
Summer is rapidly coming to an end, and I admit, the thought is not entirely unwelcome. No matter how much we budgeted, down-sized or sacrificed, we just didn’t have enough time or money for plane tickets this year. We’d no sooner reach our goal than we’d need the funds for an “emergency”. At times it felt like we were doing all the right things but instead were being punished for not starting to save sooner. Of course we weren’t being “punished” but it sure felt that way.
My hubby always says, “If it wasn’t for bad luck we’d probably have no luck at all”. The plans we had for the perfect summer just didn’t quite work out. We went to great lengths to remain positive and take advantage of all the activities and summer events our own wonderful city has to offer. We even added two new puppies to our family to take our minds off all the hugs and kisses we were missing from the grandbabies, which is how we really wanted to spend the summer!
If (like many people) we had believed there was some “punishment” being dealt, where would it come from? Would it come from our own feelings of guilt or disappointment, or were we literally being punished by God?
I was taught as a child that God loves and protects me unconditionally. As I matured in faith, I often find myself praying without ceasing as an extension of my thoughts. When I pray, I sometimes ask God to grant a request that I feel is reasonable, whether for me directly or for others. I’ve even made “pacts” with God if He would look favorably upon my desires. However, I am wise enough now to know that when God doesn’t answer affirmatively, He always satisfies a more important need or priority in my life. That’s a fact.
Another fact of life is that we all struggle with disappointment and rejection when “outcome does not meet expectation”; when our naked, true self gives one hundred percent of effort toward a worthwhile, meaningful goal that despite all our good intentions, for some reason fails. It just is what it is.
- Expectations sometime fall short, but the challenge is to never, ever give up. Redefine your position, desires, and goals whenever required. Every day we wake up is yet another opportunity to succeed.
- People will not always appreciate your efforts, however well-meaning. Suck it up, Buttercup!
- Learn that you are worthy of personal greatness and indescribable blessings Accept your faults, correct your mistakes and fall in love with the person in the mirror every day.
- God is not in the business of destroying our dreams or desires. He wants us to be grateful for what we have, happy and satisfied with what is given, and faithful enough to trust that He knows what is best for us.
Common sense, don’t you think?
My self-esteem is not predicated on my culinary skills (or lack thereof) any more than we should take to heart every criticism hurled in our direction, especially despite our good intentions. God certainly was not punishing the four year old who desperately wanted a sister rather than a brother. The Almighty is not a magician, nor a wishbone. While we may not get everything we want in life, we will always have what we need. Life is not fair or equal, but at the end of the day, it can be mighty spectacular!
As for my hubby and I, we’ve started another budget and savings plan that should nicely cover a trip across the states to visit the children and grandbabies. Barring any more broken bones, brake replacements, house repairs, new appliances and other unavoidable “emergencies”, we will definitely be on the road by the time summer comes around again next year!