These were the velvety on the outside, cool and melty and creamy on the inside, fancy-pants, gourmet kind.
The kind that deserve to be individually plated and savored as a bonne bouche, complete with an artfully placed mint leaf and a side of marbled raspberry coulis.
They certainly didn't deserve to disappear down a housewife's gullet in absentminded succession whilst she was lounging in her bed, halfheartedly reading a mediocre novel.
Sadly, that thought didn't occur to said housewife until she arose after her 10 minute binge and saw her comforter littered with gold papers--looking for all the world like the desolate bed of oyster shells that the walrus and the carpenter left behind them in Lewis Carroll's famous poem.
I am truly disgusted by things like this.
What is it about human beings that makes us unable to be satisfied with just enough?
Why, if too much is there, do we feel the need to take it anyway?
How can we so easily become immune to the mundane marvels of sight, and sound, and touch, and taste?
How do we take the remarkable and let it become the commonplace--something we grab and stuff into our fat faces in a fit of boredom?
Places.
Food.
Music.
Words.
A loving touch.
The sound of our children's voices.
The magnificent golden glow of a sunrise.
The taste of a perfect truffle on our tongue.
And we forget to be amazed.
I remember picking up my daughters at the children's home on the day I became their mama.
They came with the clothes on their backs and a grocery bag containing a couple of books and some stuffed animals given to them by the police officers who rescued them. The social worker suggested we stop at the store on the way home so that they would have something to sleep in and something to wear the next day.
So we did.
Me and these two bouncing, wide-eyed girls, shopping for the most simple of things: a pair of pajamas, some underwear, a hair brush, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans apiece.
I will never forget the expression on Christina's face when I handed her a little card of hair ties. They were ordinary, colored elastic bands and she took them from me with two hands like they were made of glass. "For me?" she said, almost breathless. "Just me?"
She barely let them go long enough to pay for them, and held them tightly in one chubby hand (and her new toothbrush in the other) all the way home, and looked after them like they were worth the whole world.
And she was right. Toothbrushes and hair ties are wonderful things. We should use them with gratitude, as we should use all the good gifts that make our lives a little more pleasant and comfortable.
Now, I understand the impossibility of going into tearful raptures over every new pen and stapler the boss hands out--at least if you want to keep your job. And I know you cannot stop every math lesson to tell your child how beautiful his eyes are or wax poetic over the softness of every pair of socks you are wearing or the fluffiness of every bite of your pancakes.
But for heaven's sake, can we choose to savor the feel of a familiar sweater or a comfortable old pair of shoes instead of continuously plotting about how and when and where we are getting our next ones?
Can we stop gorging ourselves on every new device/movie/artist/trend/food experience/vacation/relationship that comes along and simply find joy in the ones we have already been given?
Conversely, can we not complain about having to go to work when we have a job, or fuss over the deficiencies of our houses when we have a warm, dry, safe space to live, or rant and rave at our children when they are strong and well and living with us?
I am writing this in a random Subway restaurant as I wait for one of my kids to get out of a practice and as always, being around strangers is both an education and a reminder. I have seen cranky, can't-be-pleased customers leave grumbling today with the equivalent of a week's worth of delicious food in tow. Riches for most of the world. Birthright for us. (Been there).
I just watched a woman hork down a lovely sandwich, complete with melted cheese, crusty bread, thick slices of turkey, and enough fresh vegetables to create a steady rain of peppers, spinach, and tomatoes onto the table and into her lap. In five minutes flat. Without a glance up from her phone and apparently without tasting a single bite. (Done that. Today.)
I saw the spoiled child come into this land of plenty and wail that there was "nothing good here" and have a royal fit. (Did that too. But not today;)
Sadly, the hellish fusion of boredom and gluttony is not something we just inflict on food.
I have now listened to a steady hour of rotten pop songs by "artists" that somehow manage to be both musically boring and at the same time endlessly able come up with new and disgusting ways to express their voracious sexual appetites.
"Don't give me boring, predictable, comfortable, safe marital love", they croon. "Let me use YOU to satisfy my insatiable need to feel excited and exciting. In return, I promise to never be satisfied with anything you do, and to continuously lay my body and soul out in front of the world like a dead fish at a meat market, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination in either word or deed.
"I will shriek relentlessly (in auto-tune) about how much respect I deserve, how much power I have, and how lucky you are to be the one I have chosen to meet my immeasurable needs.
"And then I will sing about what a pig you are for getting sick of my selfishness and kicking me to the curb."
Oy. I'm so done in here.
But before I go, I want to fully absorb this pain, and soak in the knowledge that I am cut from the the same cloth as this parade of humanity before me.
I want my heart to hurt for them to the point of action. I need to pray for my fellow travelers. I need to try--however I can-- to bring light to these shadowlands.
Because I believe the elusive land of contentment and appreciation lies somewhere between the oblivious, bored consumption of what we have and the ravenous dissatisfaction over what we don't.
As always, I think the answer to finding it lies with the decision to re-calibrate our souls to our Maker, who offers us both the world He made and a relationship with Him now and forever. It is within this pleasant and productive marriage that we find both wide-eyed wonder over the good things He has given and at the same time patient perseverance in the good, hard work He has called us to accomplish.
Ecclesiastes 2:24 states,"There is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink, and find enjoyment in their toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God.”
So step away from the diabolical twins of overindulgence and ennui and come with me!
Let's go marveling...
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A PRAISE
Psalm 92:1-5
Psalm 92:1-5
"It is good to give thanks to the LORD
And to sing praises to Your name, O Most High;
To declare Your lovingkindness in the morning
And Your faithfulness by night,
With the ten-stringed lute and with the harp,
With resounding music upon the lyre.
For You, O LORD, have made me glad by what You have done,
I will sing for joy at the works of Your hands.
How great are Your works, O LORD!
Your thoughts are very deep."
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