At the risk of overly upsetting someone, I've opted to share a recipe first. And anyways, there really was no great segue from my current ramblings and thoughts into food. :)
Caesar that Pita!!
Slice pocketed pitas in half. In spread caesar dressing generously inside of them. Add sliced provolone, if desired. Fill with tossed spring greens, spinach, romaine, tomatoes and chicken. Devour and repeat.
An incredibly easy, cool, filling meal on a hot summer day... that we just may have a few left of!
But remember, to take as a lunch, wrap ingredients seperately or you'll have caesar mush. Yuk!
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Sometimes I sit and ponder. Sometimes I just sit. But either way, in those moments of stillness are typically profound thoughts. Lately they all scream at me the same thing: who are you? Not in the sense of knowing who I am, but rather in the sense of what gives me the particular right to think a certain way, act a certain way, make a particular decision, or give a friend advice. Who am I to know what’s best? And in reality, I’m just not. Odd as it may be to sit here and know that I am; there’s no possible way that I’m a figment of my own (or some one else’s) imagination. I feel, I see, I touch, I remember, and therefore I can’t possibly be not- er not be. But in the context of every day life situations, especially of those outside of my cute little farmhouse, the fact is that I’m not. So sitting here with my bowl of chips and salsa (though I really want rocky road ice cream) as I wonder about how I am yet am not, I’m caused to examine the origin (for lack of a better word) of what I am, am not, and should, therefore, strive to be.
In practical terms I am:
a woman, a mother, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a niece, a wife, a cousin, a granddaughter, a teacher, a domestic goddess (hey, what stay-at home mom isn’t?), a personal assistant, an accountant, a friend, a confidant, an adversary, intimidating (or so I’m told), increasingly thankful, occasionally too outspoken, a princess (we’ll get to that!), an advocate of tough love, stubborn, hard to read, mechanically inclined, hard working… I could go on and on.
However, I am not:
head of my household, always the most important person in the decisions made for my family, entitled to tell my husband what to do, somebody’s employee, someone who gets walked on by others, someone whose feelings are easily hurt (though I do have feelings), a liar, a cheater, a thief, the best at anything (phew, what a relief!), lazy… did I miss anything?
So where does that leave me? What am I supposed to be? Before I get back to the princess thing, I’m going to lay a bit of a foundation in the best way I know how.
Going way back to Genesis, God created the heavens and the earth, day, night, sun, moon, stars, all the stuff upon land and in the sea (oh, He created those, too) then He created Adam. From Adam he created woman, Eve. So, as woman, I’ve been created from PART of man. Intended to be his helper and companion but, after the fall, cursed to desire to be him while serving him. No, I don’t serve my husband in the way you’re probably thinking. No silly uniforms, no bowing to his every whim. But I do strive to be a good companion, to meet his needs (by making dinner, keeping up after the house, good conversation, and other such stuff), and I am subject to his authority. Does he tell me, “Do the dishes!” then beat me when I don’t? No- I’d beat him back. But does he have the right to tell me, “I don’t think what you’re wanting to do is a wise choice and I think you shouldn’t?” Absolutely. And I listen; well, I do my best to listen. But I feel I’ve overstepped something- marriage. Man and woman were designed to be married because they were each part of a whole.
It makes me think of a transmission and transfer case. A transmission can do its job just fine without a transfer case. Shifting into different gears, moving your car along. A transfer case can work, also, without engaging a transmission; allowing your car to be in two or four wheel drive, changing how it rolls, where the power will eventually go. But when you marry the two together (yes, that’s the automotive term) you get this wonderful WHOLE that does more than either of them could alone. Two transmissions or two transfer cases couldn’t produce the same result- they just weren’t designed to.
So my husband and I were perfectly designed to work well separately but to work better together, and do more together, than we ever could on our own. How super neat is that?
So fast-forward a ways to the New Testament. Close your eyes and imagine- no, better keep them open so as to read! Imagine living your whole life according to a set of rules designed to make you right with God, and having to ask someone else to intercede for you when you screwed up, not knowing if it was enough. And hearing from your family that it’s the way your people have lived for generations. Enter Jesus. A man who walks uprightly among your people who tells you that He is the Son of God, the King of kings and that if you would believe and follow Him that you’re no longer bound to the stringent rules of your old lifestyle, but now bound to Him to follow His commands. And by the way, they’re few in number. He promises you that you will no longer be bound by death. You, like everyone else, may just look at Him like you aren’t sure what to believe. Let me tell you, I believe. And being a daughter of the King, washed clean by His blood, I am a princess. (I have lots of information if you want it on this topic!)
Looking at life from that point of view, I am:
Made in the Image of God. Genesis 1:26-27
Not who the world says I am. Genesis 6:5
Not what my environment could make me. Genesis 6:9
Fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous. Psalm 139:14
God’s fellow worker. 1 Corinthians 3:9
The temple of the indwelling Spirit of God. 1 Corinthians 3:16
God’s workmanship, created to do good works. Ephesians 2:10
Made new in Christ and reconciled to God! 2 Corinthians 5:17-18
What I am listed above sure makes the normal things I think of myself as pretty insignificant. So what should I strive to be? A friend told me she saw a shirt that puts it very plainly. It reads:
JESUS FREAK
Whose freak are you?
Well, whose freak are you?
