No thanks, tuna-surprise.

So, say you go to a potluck. You have your empty plate in hand, eyes appraising the goodies. Of course you have your likes and dislikes, and there are likely to be foods that you'd generally avoid. But then there's that fear that if you don't take a little bit of a certain dish, chances are you'll find yourself seated next to the maker, perhaps hurting their feelings, which is the last thing you'd want.

Lately I've felt like just being 'me' might offend somebody. And that is harder to swallow than even the stuff that I bring to potlucks.

I was actually not-quite-burned-but more-singed the other day while playing with the fire of human interaction. With the best intentions possible, and all in a spirit of progress and teamwork, I unintentionally ruffled feathers and the end result was this; I now really have to psych myself up to walk out of my door and converse with people. I guess I'm fragile in that way, feeling that the worst of all possible tortures is to learn of someone who just does not like me. I'm pretty outgoing but those sheltering walls are there around my heart, just like for anyone else.

I guess if life is a potluck, is it wrong to be picky? Or is it even a question of right and wrong? I'm reminded of a Thomas Jefferson quote: "In matters of principle, stand like a rock; in matters of taste, swim with the current."

I am now putting aside the metaphors to simply state my perspective.

There are deep-rooted principles of appropriate behavior and virtue that must never be discarded. Call these values what you would like (the golden rule, good verses evil, etc.) but for my purposes, they're gospel truths. Then there are the cultural norms and evolved customs, that sprung from who-knows-where and who-knows-when. Quite frankly I would be happy kicking many of these customs to the curb. And the kind of grumpiness I've been feeling lately might even cause me to stomp on them first.

The other day someone invited me to a church party and then told me that I really needed to "home-make" a dessert if I wanted to come. This person meant well, I know it. And I know that her following statement, "not that you strike me as the type of person who would store buy things" was intended to be a compliment. But that is what I am saying. That a gospel invitation, beginning in love can quickly become worthless when accompanied by the culture of blatant snobbery.

Can I have the pure gospel without the culture? Can I choose the sustaining nourishment for my plate and leave out the green jello with chunks of stuff floating around in it?

I really don't know the answer to this question.

But I do know that it is possible to love the person who brought the food, even if you despise the food itself. And therein lies the practical solution to my pickle, really. In matters of principle (love one another) stand like a rock. In matters of taste (green-bean casserole) swim with the current, or against the current, or just get out of the water.


PS- I know that the pictures have nothing to do with the post. But wouldn't you rather see my new haircut and my lovely boys than pictures of potluck foods?