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Friday, August 3, 2012

I dream of... butternut squash?

Sometimes dreams are like planting daisy seeds and instead growing butternut squash.
Not what you expected.
Takes some getting used to.
but the jarring aside...
butternut is better for your body and your soul.
(just a mission to peel.)
Daisies fuel insecurities
as the petals fall
one
by
one
to the grass that's greener on the other side.
sowing seeds of discontentment instead of songs of joy.

meanwhile,
you're in the kitchen (with Dinah?)
peeling butternut
all your emotions wrapped up in one action
the battle begins: steel against skin
 thwip, thwip, thwip
the squash (not so aptly named) refuses to be vanquished.
more effort. stronger will.
refusing to be appealing the squash slips off your hand and into the trash.
defeated, you pluck it from the pile of more obliging vegetable peelings,
rinse it off,
and begin again.
the slick surface of the squash meets the force of the blade and immediately
slips again.
rinse.
thwip, thwip, thw- slip. rinse. again.
with each rescue form the rubbish the tears begin to rise.
frustration.
near cursing.
WHO DREAMS LIKE THIS?!
tears.
keep going.
the question remains.
Slip. Plunk. ARGH! Trickle. Sniff. Thwip, thwip, thwip...
keep going.
Finally.
it. is. finished!!
glance back at the counter behind.
FIVE MORE.
heart sinks to toes.
reach for the next  (MOT)
Thwip, thwip, thw-slip. plunk.
FIST OF RAGE.
rinse. begin again.
somehow...
the end is reached.
three steps forward, four steps back.
ten steps forward, three steps back.
battle is won, but war is not over.
CHOPPING.
strength. steel. balance.
thwack, thwack, thwack.
the squash rolls.
steady.
when arms ache from chopping squash... the war is over.
into the pot.
plunk. plunk. plunk.
wearily, retire to a stool and wait.
stir occasionally.
hope rises.
wait.
sprinkle a dash of salt.
stir.
TASTE.
result?
HALLELUJAH CHORUS!
best butternut soup you've ever tasted.
Served?
At the feast where the King dines with His children
and every beggar, orphan, and widow is invited with open arms.
songs of joy resound.
warmth of love and soup fills soul and body.
the question returns.
WHO DREAMS LIKE THIS?!
"ahh, it is simple," my soul replies
"my Father."

As the Good Book says, "Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy." - Psalm 126:5

{Thanks to: Savana, who taught me to cook, inspired me to dream, and made me peel butternut squash. Jessica, whose love for Jesus, butternut and ZA, has blessed me more than words. Laura from Cape Town, who made me the most kiff butternut soup on the planet. YUM.}