Blathering on about God, food, and more….
Let me say this: My parents love me a lot. Anything you read hereafter, please keep that in mind. The circumstances to which they exposed me were out of a genuine intention to free me from my fear. That it did not work and that I am scarred is in no way a reflection of their greatest desire for my life to be lived in happiness and purpose. It is not their fault their daughter was born arachnophobic.
Second grade was not a stellar year for me. Academically, I was fine, but it was the first time in my memory that a teacher did not like me – a rare occurrence, considering I’m an over-achiever and eager to learn. Most teachers love having a student like me: anxious to help, anxious to please, and anxious to get an “A.” But, Mrs. Anderson only saw that I was anxious. My anxiety got on her very last nerve.
Of all the things that frighten me this season – of all the drifting phobias of ghosts and goblins and witches and monsters – the only thing that scares me to the bone isn’t supernatural at all. It’s spiders.
My grief is palpable. All summer I planned a singular week by the sea – one week in which to process the vast changes my life has wrought these past few months – one week in which to reacquaint myself with my family – one week in which to actually rest.
“Man plans. God laughs.”
– Yiddish Proverb
I’m not opposed to the occasional cliché. They exist for a reason. Much like uncomfortable stereotypes, clichés apply in situations I wish they did not. And while clichés tend to amputate critical thinking, sometimes they simply cannot be avoided. Such is the case with my garden.
Our most beautiful foods are often times the simplest. Scrambled eggs. Steak on a grill. French Fries. These foods are easy to make, and with a careful hand, they are amazing to eat!
In 2010 the Apocalypse began: Kelly green replaced maroon. The cashiers smiled no more. The meat packer stared with empty eyes. And the produce…..it was stacked.
What happens to us when a deeply loved dream dies? But what happens after we’ve tried once more, stood up once more, gone further, and refused to give up ad infinitum until there is nothing left to give?
The first presidential election in which I voted, I cast my ballot for Ronald Reagan. I understand if some of you cringe. I also understand if some of you miss the conservative girl I used to be.