Friday, May 31, 2013

Stove-side Lessons

Annie used to love to chop onions with me in the Vidalia chopper thing. It was her favorite. Then all of a sudden one day she realized they made her teary and she hasn't wanted to since. She told me "I'll just sit under the table and wait for the next thing. I don't want to cry". Bless her heart.

I thought about how in a way that onion is a metaphor for parts of life. It's going to make me cry ever last time. But whatever I'm making is richer and fuller and better because it's there. And that's sort of how this life is, I think. Like that old onion.

Those onions find themselves into life a lot of different ways...

Sometimes it means embracing being married to someone who is very, very different from you. Sometimes it means making sacrifices so you can know a tiny bit of your brothers and sisters' pain, a tiny taste of what it means to "walk a mile in their shoes".  Sometimes it means letting go of what you thought you'd be doing with your life. Sometimes it means casting off fear of the unexpected even though you're a planner and really, really like to be in control. Sometimes it means realizing that learning someone's ways takes time and if love comes slowly but it still comes that's okay. Sometimes it means knowing that one day you'll give up what your life looks like now so that someone else's story can have a different ending. Sometimes it means coming to terms with what you know will be a lifelong struggle and finding the beauty it in because it's a part of you and you know that you were fearfully and wonderfully made.

Oftentimes, the things that reap the most flavor in a life are the things that are sewn with the most tears. Would we have it any other way?

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