Look, I’m no Gordon Ramsey. For a few reasons: I stopped using the F-word, I have absolutely no reason to make people feel like idiots in the kitchen, and I cannot cook beef wellington, or anything else, like Ramsey. I watch Master Chef, Master Chef Junior, and if I am really bored, five minutes of Hell’s Kitchen; then I remember this is terrorist Ramsey and not Ramsey from Master Chef, and promptly return to my current novel obsession (which is the Divergent Series, by the way… Book three’s literary voices are bothering me, but I digress).
The point is, I love cooking. Despite the first 10 weeks of my pregnancy when the thought of cooking made me nauseous, I am back in my body and our kitchen. Second trimester is a whole new world. Not a magic carpet ride, but better nonetheless.
I made pot roast today – delicious, four inch thick, marbly meat, obscenely salted and peppered covered in reduced red wine, beef broth, unpeeled carrots, quartered potatoes and onions, fresh thyme and rosemary. Because I am missing reason in an area of my brain, I had convinced myself that pot roast was the one dish holding the final key to my womanhood. I avoided cooking it for years, lest it reveal I am not the woman I’d hoped.
Now its my favorite dish (or is it short ribs?) to cook.
This reminds me of life. Of course it does. We both knew this whole blog would not be about pot roast. There is only one red-headed Pioneer Woman, and as fate would have it, she is not me. There are hard moments in life. Painful realities that are difficult to face. Unending seasons we are afraid will determine who we are for life.
Sometimes, looking back, those are my favorite seasons.
Why in the world did it take me over 30 years to discover the wonder, the ease, the three and a half hours of Dutch Oven glory of pot roast? It tastes incredible. We can eat on it for days. Then when my husband is quickly over leftovers, we turn it into hearty beef stew. A week of dinners costs $30.00 and if you live with men, you know this is a miracle. Sure, we practically cry copper scrubbing the dutch oven clean and no, I cannot leave the house for almost four hours, but its worth it. I had to wash sheets, towels, clean some stuff and read my novel anyway.
Pot roast is a simple example of how fear works in our lives. Its paralyzing. Straightforward, uncomplicated decisions become impossible in the confines of our mind if the soil in our soul is fertilized with fear. Faith is better for the garden.
What are you avoiding? What has become impossible in your mind that is entirely possible in your life? What would you do if you weren’t so afraid?
“I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear.” Rosa Parks