Old Kitchen, New Kitchen (A Modern Day Parable)

Last year Scott and I remodeled our kitchen. It was loooong overdue. I'm not sure how you feel about God and kitchens, but I felt as though He was prompting me to get this project off the ground -- trust me, I did not want to! My old kitchen was all I'd know for more than twenty years. My old kitchen had been a school room for my children and the origin of many Monday morning breakfasts with them. My old kitchen was one of the only rooms in our home that looked virtually the same as it did the day we moved in. Everything was exactly where I knew it to be; I moved around easily in this sort of culinary ballet. If it ain't broke... But it was. Linoleum peeling, cabinet doors falling off with regularity, exposed floor joists, a temperamental dishwasher, and a stained Formica counter-top. I didn't care, but Scott did. He begged; he threatened. Nothing worked; I was comfortable in my broken old kitchen.

Early last year I began to think about it. The simple fact I would entertain the thought caught Scott off guard -- "Really?" From there it went to gathering ideas and sorting which elements I wanted to remain and which needed a redo. Months before, I'd wanted it all to remain! This was progress. As I thought more seriously about our remodel, I began to count the cost: nights of pizza and mornings of breakfast sandwiches while the kitchen was down; the cost of materials; workdays lost as my husband stayed home to remodel our kitchen. "Show me, God, how all of this is going to happen, if that's what You want." It was a slow, methodical process -- a walk, if you will -- until my broken old kitchen was a memory, and my new kitchen was open for business, ready to serve!

But this is not a simple story of kitchens old and new. This is a redemption story, my story. And maybe yours as well. Like my kitchen, I, too, was broken. In my brokenness, I learned to cope, to function. In my brokenness I found new ways to keep going and make things happen. In my brokenness I survived relationships and time. In my brokenness I learned to avoid or handle carefully those things that would, at the slightest touch fall apart or even harm me. My brokenness wasn't ideal, but it was comfortable, familiar. I really hated to leave it. But the truth was, I was immersed in brokenness, and unable to see what life would look like if I were made whole. Oh, I had ideas. I would look like everyone else. I'd be saccharin sweet and smiling. Everything would be "just wonderful!" I would be a doormat, and I'd wear long denim skirts and Birkenstocks, and tell everyone how my perfect, kind husband brushes my hair each night. (Okay, it was a bit twisted; but I was just not ready to be that person!)

That, though, is not usually how God works. He meets us where we are. He begins with a thought, or a change that leads to another. And time goes by and there's another. And another. And before you know it, this process has taken place. And God is in it. And suddenly, you're excited, and you're embracing the change. And you want more. And you're excited to tell others about these changes; you're excited to serve and to share and to go wherever He takes you. And if He calls you to be a pastor, you go; and if He calls you to be a taxi driver, you go. But it becomes all about Him and what He wants; and He doesn't want you broken anymore.

I look at my kitchen now. It's a far cry from what it used to be. It is eclectic with a rustic element to it. We have commercial-style fixtures, recycled cabinetry and an intentional bent toward functionality and entertaining. It is the perfect expression of who I am -- today.