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.}

If I never said another word...

these poems are for Kelsey, my absolutely astoundingly amazing little sister.

If I ever moved to Africa, I'd miss my amazing sister because no one else but Jesus knows why "yule log" makes me laugh so hard, and I'd like to keep it that way.

If I ever became an astronaut, I'd like to buy a toothpick bird because I found Ursula's scrunchie and I like rhubarb pie.

If I ever visit Namibia, I'd like to put Betty Cracker on TV because Suudzu is amazing and i like making fun of Jude Law.

If I ever actually got a million dollars and a pony, I'd like to be a lumberjack because they aren't really going to shoot a helicopter with a stick of dynamite and if Padre shaves off his mustache, I am not coming home.

If I could go to Trader Joe's I'd like to drink water that is big-like lake because Kurt Browning used to live in my closet and I like back to school shopping.

If I ever had a four foot baby I'd like to buy you a Coldstone cake because Ranger Vickie is from "Oregon" and I want to blow stuff up with my mind.

If I never turned on Axton road again, I'd like to tell Tim Gunn his outfit was fierce because I remembered that your shark's middle name is Andre and I like it when clerks at Walgreen's ask you if you're getting married.