© jb katke

Oh, to have a formative mind. Or even a mind that can remember things. The right things, that is.

A lifetime ago, or so it seems, my youngest granddaughter, Willow, and I were baking together. I shared a kitchen secret about eggs. Cracking a raw egg in a measure cup that you will  use for either shortening or molasses prevents it from sticking and easier to scoop out.

Willow was young enough to grasp knowing secrets was a highly treasured confidence. “What other kitchen secrets are there Grandma?”  

That was all I could think of at the time, but olive oil does the same thing. Her “yes” to my inquiry if she liked cooking, prompted me to ask if she would cook for me when I get old.  No doubt she may not recall that conversation, but I am open to holding her to that commitment.

This came to the forefront of my mind as I pawed through the freezer. I came across a couple foreign objects used in previous meals, thinking there was enough left for future use. Normally I label what I freeze, but I will remember what it is. Sure, I will.

Both of them, some sort of sauce. Teriyaki from a recent chicken dinner, or is it Aunt Ellens pork glaze? Your guess is as good as mine. Fear of using the sauce on the wrong meat, you can guess what will happen this next trash day.

The problem is, I hate to cook. Always have.

Even before that catastrophe in my 7^th grade Home Economics class. The class was cooking tapioca. Even the name sounds disgusting. I imagine it’s like eating lumpy pudding and the appearance is far from appetizing. But that is just me.

The ingredient list called for a dash of salt. I ‘dashed’ the salt shaker and the lid fell into the mix, pouring gobs of salt out in the process. Someone from a previous class thought this would be funny. It saved my table group from tasting it, so I guess I should be grateful.

It may not be the taste as much as the texture that seems revolting to me. If you eat it and like it, I would appreciate hearing your comments.

Is this you, do you feel the ingredients God used to create you are disgusting? Not everyone will agree with you. Putting the color of your hair and eyes aside, and every other aspect that makes you, you. Know this. You have been made to order, a custom job according to God’s specific specs. Do some research.

The first few chapters of Genesis in the Good Book speak of the sky, our earth, the animals, every natural thing you can imagine was made just right. God, himself said it was good. My guess he is equally happy with you as well. It’s easy to love kittens and puppies, but loving yourself as God does, not so much.

I encourage you to look into that book to find out what makes you so great. I will give you a spoiler alert, you are made in His image. You will also find surprising stories of  people and families that are similar to yours.

Many of them are word pictures of God and his son, Jesus. My personal favorite is the chic book, Esther, that makes no mention of God at all. But the stuff you find He did behind the scenes will amaze you. If you are a party animal, enjoy a good glass of wine, into fairy tale rags to riches stories and the consequences of what gut hate can do to a person, read on!  I have said too much, but I’m telling you the Good Book has something for everyone.