Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Leftovers

As a child, I looked forward to leftovers.

Okay, at this point we'll all take a moment to acknowledge, well, my, um, weird unique traits.

I liked knowing what was coming the next day. The routine, the plan, the constancy of smell and taste. I took comfort in the fact that Mom had prepared enough ahead of time to tide us over in case she didn't feel like cooking the next evening. In all honesty, we had leftovers because Mom overprepared. She made too much, anticipating my brother and me consuming more than humanly possible. Suffice it to say, we were well loved children, but that's another tale entirely.

Bringing me back to...leftovers.

Have you ever noticed that some things taste delicious the second time around? Chocolate cake for breakfast, meat pie, and mashed potatoes turned into pancakes all being prime examples. Other items though, change consistency and color and begin to look pale and mushy and, well, gross. It's the latter that I've been thinking about recently.

Why? Because lately I feel like leftovers. Old. Undesireable. Slightly off. Globby. Pasty. Alone on the plate. Not able to give or present my best to anyone. I even have checked to see if I'm going green and mouldy...written in jest with a grain of truth ringing through.

I don't feel yummy or desirable or even pleasant to be around. I'm not currently feeling vibrant or peppy or like I'm drawing others toward me. Which is a huge problem, because I constantly desire to be a light and reflect Him.

Feel. Therein lies the problem, as it's not about how I feel. My God doesn't intended that I present myself according to how I feel at a particular moment in time. He requires that I give all of me all the time. Sigh. Seriously, though, how is this done when all I feel like is day-old refrigerated grilled zucchini now there's the visual picture I'm sure you wanted in your noggin that has gone mushy?

I guess I'm supposed to move forward in steps, like the song from an animated Christmas movie which proclaims, "Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walkin' across the floor...put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walkin' out the door." I'm not feeling like walking out the door currently, but once again, it's not about what I feel. It's about what I do.

One foot in front of the other. Less feeling and more DOing. There are chickadees to chase, sprites that are not content to ride a current. My chicks? They soar.

Three cheers for flight.

2 comments:

  1. Sweet girl.

    First, you're not weird because I also think things usually taste best the second day :) [although I'm not sure what meat pie is... That doesn't sound right.]

    You are so right that it's about what we do, but know that doesn't always mean physical. When you are tired and icky and day-old-bread-needing-to-rest, it can sometimes mean how we do the resting. How we smile and love and give our hearts when we can't give with our bodies.

    And you, sister, give your all even when you feel like you have nothing left. I'm proud of you. Always.

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  2. Big lump in my throat. Love you more.

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