My husband and I have very different method for cooking. I apply the “this looks like enough” method. He sticks to the weights and measurements offered in the recipe. I toss things into a pot or onto a cookie sheet and fire up the heat before declaring the meal is ready. He sticks to the lists and follows the times, temperatures, and other requirements.
I have always known that the two of us were cut from different molds – even before we were married. How different we were was only highlighted even more by the choice of marriage.
It was not until that fateful day in the kitchen that true level of differences became clear.
My husband called to me from the kitchen as I sat, intently writing away on my novel. “Hey, how do you make biscuits?”
It took me a moment to come out of that zone I had created with the writing. When I did shake off the remnants of the story, I thought hard about what he had asked. I suspected he did not want the recipe that involved shortening. The image of the recently purchased box of Bisquick danced in my head. I nodded at the image. “Pour some of the Bisquick in a bowl and then add enough buttermilk to make it a soft dough.”
Silence echoed through the house.
I started to get up and go make sure the enormity of the job had not knocked him out. Before I could make my move, he responded. “That’s not a recipe.”
I laughed – only I did not laugh out loud because a laughing wife is not the best sound for a husband to hear when he is busy trying to make breakfast. The laughter showed on my face only. “There is a recipe on the side of the box.”
Bisquick biscuits really are as simple as adding the powder to the liquid. My experience has taught me that. My husband was not as acquainted with making biscuits and he wanted something more proven. He found the recipe, measured out the amounts, and followed the directions. I still say it was a complicated way to make something simple.
We tend to do that in our lives as well. We want something proven. We want a formula. We want guaranteed results. Therefore, we trust the maker of the box more than the one that has the experience in the making of the item (or in the case of life the Maker of the life).
The makers of that box were not the first ones to make biscuits. They will not be the last ones to make biscuits. The others that have made biscuits have had equal amounts of success. Even my “that looks like enough” method has produced some tasty treats.
It has to be more complicated to work. That seems to be the motto for walking out life (and for some it is the motto for making biscuits). Complicated seems to validate the moment. Complicated makes the process appear more real. Complicated has to be better.
I need to keep a picture of a biscuit on my office wall to remind me about how easy it can be to take something simple and make it complicated. Despite all of the fuss and all of the muss, in the end, I end up with a biscuit.
If I want to make more of my life then I have to utilize what I have with more focused determination. Instead of spinning my wheels making it complicated, I need to trust the simplicity of the Maker.