i was just searching for a picture to use, and this is the one that stood out. this was a very good soup, vegetable soup, named after the person who requested it (their online name, anyway). i won't change the name, but i won't make it for work again.
what stands out about it? making a soup, a good soup, is like building a good community. the elements have to come together with a sense of belonging and harmony, though they are diffuse and maybe even radically different. everything has to have its place. the cook has to have that understanding up front. it's more mental than physical. with that understanding, elements are selected, prepared for their flavor or for their ability to season, and layered in, not according to importance, but according to the power level they should maintain. a mushroom, for instance, only has the flavor of the things around it, being a fungus and having no true flavor of its own. but a mushroom added too early becomes a tough, shrunken thing, a sullen ingredient, contrary to consistency. a potato has more flavor, not much more, but is a multiple agent, a comfort, a flavor, a thickening agent by its starch content. but it requires only so much cooking, as it will soften and break down completely if it is overcooked. vegetables lose their nutritional value when they are simply tossed into an excessive amount of liquid and boiled.
maybe i wanted too much. maybe i was thinking of how each person at work, despite our differences, has a place, has a function. maybe i was thinking that, under the right set of circumstances, harmony was possible, even if the 'cooking' was being done in a pressure cooker by a psychotic cook. and maybe i was right, and maybe i was close.
and maybe Icarus should have listened to his father and stayed away from the sun.
my days are okay; don't get me wrong. i still go early so i'm not late. i still make coffee, but i don't push the donations very much, if at all, anymore. for what? i have a questionable presence now, not with everyone, but in a community it only takes a few bad 'ingredients' to spoil the harmony of the recipe.
sometimes, it only takes one. and maybe that means i'm the bad ingredient now. maybe not.
in the end, it's not a soup, and its not a community. it's a job, and i do it because it pays the bills. i didn't go there to make friends, and that i have friends is a blessing from God, not from man. i have to remember that, and i have to remember that when it comes to recipes, my Father has the best one, and He is the most capable of preparing it. my job is not to cook; my job is to sit at the table and partake of what He has prepared for me.
i am up, i am medicated and meditated and scriptured. i am fed and caffienated and watered. showered and shaved. i am about to take clothing upstairs to put away, find my selected clothes for the day's wear, and get to work early so that i am not late.
maybe i'll find a nice soup for lunch. probably not, though.
thank you, Father, for allowing me to sit at Your table.
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