I am not big on the culinary arts. Well, it is probably more accurate to say I lack skill in the culinary arts. My daughter who cooks and bakes wonderfully says it is because I don’t stick to recipes; but following recipes to the letter is a lot like not breaking any rules. Never my strong suit.
Dinner rolls around with such regularity too. Night after night I have to think of what to fix and then prepare it in a way that is not unappealing. For years I felt dread as I trudged into the kitchen to get started.
A few years ago I decided to reframe the task at hand. Instead of drudgery, I began to see it as a way to offer love and care to my family. With each chop of the knife I would send up a silent prayer for someone who would be eating what I prepared; before long these prayers were for more than just that they wouldn’t get stomach cramps from what they ate. Over time, these prayers deepened to requests for their ability to maintain integrity in a corrupt society and a constant spirit of joy in a world of despair. I prayed that with each bite they took, they would feel my love; that the meal would nourish body and soul.
Once I began to see making dinner as a way to convey love, I started to approach other household chores in the same way. It was a perspective change which made the work seems less a chore and more the recognition of my desire for blessings for my family. When done with love and a grateful heart, all of our daily tasks can become a prayer. I, for one, would rather pray than work any day.