pancakes.
"You are so good at making pancakes."
"Um... thanks."
I guess they are round. I guess they taste pretty good. I guess they are a nice caramel-brown color.
I wanted to yell out to my sister, "I didn't really do anything!" But then I realized the conversation would sound like a lecture about the merit of using a griddle, the ease of pancake mix, the signs of a done flapjack.
The pattern for successful pancakes is pretty simple. So yeah, I am good at making pancakes. But I didn't really make them. Not alone, at least.
I feel like this a lot when I see successes in my family. Or when people compliment my children or say nice things about our life. Many times I say something like, "Um...thanks."
What I want to say is, "this is the product of living the gospel. I didn't really do anything on my own."
The mix is pre-made, the griddle is hot, I just stand here with my flipper. I watch for signs and flip. Watch and flip.
We've picked a mix for our family. It tastes just right. Sometimes we get the proportions wrong and the batter seems too thin or too think, but there is always a way to fix it.
The cooking pan of family life becomes a seasoned griddle over time and experience. For us it started as a sticky, crusty pan that produced unevenly cooked and blackened shapes, but through trial and error and the grace of a loving God we've found a working griddle. Sometimes it's set too high or too low so we're constantly adjusting the dial, but the product is mostly good, at least in the important ways.
Looking forward to the promised bubbles forming on the top, I wait for signs that what I'm doing is working. I flip based on knowledge gained through past experience. I flip on feelings and hunches. I mostly wait. The simple truth is that when we stop watching, lose focus, wane interest, get too busy, our pancakes burn.
I feel so thankful for the mix, the griddle, the signs of progress, and the chance to start over again when we char things up. We're making a pretty good life, but not without ample help.
Matt and I got into an argument at 6am over the dishes in the sink, or some dumb thing. We were sleep deprived, overburdened, and somewhat estranged. Under the surface of the dirty dish fight was the reality that we'd been neglecting our treasured marriage. Our batter was soooo thin, our griddle was too hot. Crusty, flat marriage.
So we're fixing it. We're taking unnecessary things out of our life that compete with our focus on each other. We're adding in some new things that encourage our love. We're following that tried and true pattern that produces the good stuff.
And that's how it works for us.
"Um... thanks."
I guess they are round. I guess they taste pretty good. I guess they are a nice caramel-brown color.
I wanted to yell out to my sister, "I didn't really do anything!" But then I realized the conversation would sound like a lecture about the merit of using a griddle, the ease of pancake mix, the signs of a done flapjack.
The pattern for successful pancakes is pretty simple. So yeah, I am good at making pancakes. But I didn't really make them. Not alone, at least.
I feel like this a lot when I see successes in my family. Or when people compliment my children or say nice things about our life. Many times I say something like, "Um...thanks."
What I want to say is, "this is the product of living the gospel. I didn't really do anything on my own."
The mix is pre-made, the griddle is hot, I just stand here with my flipper. I watch for signs and flip. Watch and flip.
We've picked a mix for our family. It tastes just right. Sometimes we get the proportions wrong and the batter seems too thin or too think, but there is always a way to fix it.
The cooking pan of family life becomes a seasoned griddle over time and experience. For us it started as a sticky, crusty pan that produced unevenly cooked and blackened shapes, but through trial and error and the grace of a loving God we've found a working griddle. Sometimes it's set too high or too low so we're constantly adjusting the dial, but the product is mostly good, at least in the important ways.
Looking forward to the promised bubbles forming on the top, I wait for signs that what I'm doing is working. I flip based on knowledge gained through past experience. I flip on feelings and hunches. I mostly wait. The simple truth is that when we stop watching, lose focus, wane interest, get too busy, our pancakes burn.
I feel so thankful for the mix, the griddle, the signs of progress, and the chance to start over again when we char things up. We're making a pretty good life, but not without ample help.
Matt and I got into an argument at 6am over the dishes in the sink, or some dumb thing. We were sleep deprived, overburdened, and somewhat estranged. Under the surface of the dirty dish fight was the reality that we'd been neglecting our treasured marriage. Our batter was soooo thin, our griddle was too hot. Crusty, flat marriage.
So we're fixing it. We're taking unnecessary things out of our life that compete with our focus on each other. We're adding in some new things that encourage our love. We're following that tried and true pattern that produces the good stuff.
And that's how it works for us.
Comments
--Brie :)
You know, reading you blog sometimes makes me feel like Forrest Gump, because you explain things in a way that I can understand Hahahaha. Oh I miss hanging out.
Hahaha Finn's face, so funny.