Well, it started off well. Baking, that is. I had planned ahead–checked my cupboards to see what ingredients I had, made a list, sent my husband out to pick up those items during the weekly grocery trip six days before baking.
I cleared my counter (well, sort of), got out everything I needed–flour, sugar, bowls, eggs, red and green M&M’s–in order to avoid unnecessary hunting during my mixing process, and started stirring. I even got out the electric mixer. Snow falling, baby playing calmly on a blanket beneath my feet, I felt in control and ready to whip up 5 dozen cookies for our church cookie sale.
Well, the first batch came out a little burned and thick, and I heard my mom’s voice in my head, criticizing my non-chewy cookies (“they’re too cake like!”), and I resolved to make the next batch better.
“Hmm…what if I add some oil to the mix?” I thought. That will CERTAINLY make ‘em a little chewier. So I sprayed the pan with Pam and went about rolling my next batch. Well, ten minutes later the buzzer went off and I looked inside the oven to find some sizzling cookies encircled with a black ring. Oh.no.
By this time the baby was getting fussy, so I pulled out the tray and muttered some expletives, rocked baby to sleep, added some flour to my mixture, re-rolled dough balls and stuffed them back into the oven. Those ones sizzled and burned too.
I could hear the baby crying again, his nap had only lasted about 15 minutes, so I called my dad, asked him to get me some butter for the additional batches I was going to have to make now that I had ruined my first three dozen. I got the baby, fed him, put him on his blanket again, then commenced baking–following the recipe to the letter. I decided to opt out of the Pam to reduce the sizzle effect, hoping the pan’s non-stick promise would deliver.
Well, I pulled out three more burned batches of cookies.
I went to the church–for all intents and purposes empty-handed–and found another lady from our parish in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.
“Did you bring some cookies?” I asked.
“Nope. The sign up sheet looked pretty full, so I didn’t bother. Did you bring yours?”
I explained that I HAD my cookies, but in light of baking disaster, probably no one would want to eat them. We spent a few minutes commiserating about our past kitchen failures before I went back to mulling over today’s mishap.
“I don’t know what happened,” I finished, lamenting the whole wasted afternoon.
“You were distracted,” she added matter-of-factly.
Distracted?! Well, of course I was distracted. Isn’t distracted a synonym for motherhood? Doing twenty things at once, trying to wear three hats and make deadlines, trying to get out the door and make it somewhere remembering the baby, all his accessories, AND the trays of codflabbing cookies…yes, my life IS distracted.
The past few weeks I have been trying to pull off a large scale organizing project during the baby’s nap times. My plan was to have drawers, closets, refrigerator, and files cleared so that I can rid of the clutter and begin the new year in a more organized fashion. I have poured over Good Housekeeping magazine and other life simplifying literature at work to develop the perfect organizational regimen for next year–complete with bins, baskets, file folders, calendars, day planners, and open shelves so I can greet the year with a composed embrace–ready to catch all balls, remember all items and appointments, and keep the clutter at bay.
Ha. Epic fail. I think I have made more clutter in my attempt to de-clutter…and if Saturday’s baking adventure is any indication, no matter how in-control I try to be, forces from without (i.e. my son and husband) will always undermine my efforts.
And anyway, what is the necessity of de-cluttering anyway? Who cares if I have an up-to-date planner and filing cabinet, clear shelves, or a clean house?
I wonder if my desire for order and simplicity comes from a spiritual longing celebrated and remembered in this season of Nativity–which is to push back the clutter and noise to create room in my life for the birth of Christ. The incarnation of Christ means that God took flesh–that is physical form–and so the physical world MATTERS. And so, when people talk about “making room in your heart” for God, I think this is more than just opening an invisible but sentimental door for an image of a manger scene–it is taking some literal steps toward de-cluttering too.
In all things there is a balance. Even the clean-up effort can become a distraction if it is done only in and for itself. But, when I do all things in prayer, for the Glory of God, the incarnation of Christ can become present in my humdrum day-to-day situation.
Granted, there will always be forces beyond my control. And there will always be things that confound my plans, undermine my efforts, and throw me for a loop when I think I have it all figured out. But, there is still something to be said for resolving to make this year a little more orderly and simple to make space for what is necessary.
In the midst of my baking mess, I listened to Christmas music with my dad, I laughed with the ladies of my parish, I held my son, and I got baking advice from several friends (i.e. move up the rack in my oven and just throw the burned cookies away already!). In the midst of chaos, there is still room for love and friendship…there is still the presence of God when everything seems to fall apart.
So, for 2012, may I (and all of you) strive to live in the balance between maintaining order and surrendering to chaos; to checking off that to-do list and abandoning it for God, for your family and friends; to taking care of yourself and surrendering to others in love.
And may these words that Orthodox Christians sing at Christmas be a blessing to you, “Thy Nativity, O Christ, our God, Has shown to the world the light of wisdom. For by it those who worshipped the stars, Were taught by a star to adore Thee, The Sun of Righteousness; And to know Thee, the Orient from on high. O Lord, glory to Thee.”
