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The Great High Priest of Mother’s Day

May 14, 2012

I am the Great High Priest of Mother’s Day. An arrogant claim you say? Ah, but I have three burnt racks of ribs to prove my claim!

I so wanted to make a special meal for Melissa and my mom to honor them for the day. I had it all planned out. I would put the ribs on the grill and get them started. Roast them slow and keep them juicy. While the meat was cooking, I was going to make mashed potatoes and broccoli with cheese. What I had not counted on was the grease from the ribs creating an inferno. I put the first one or two fires out and then gave up and turned off the gas to the grill. I calculated that the meat was done enough to be safe to eat. However, I had not calculated that the grease would continue to burn while I was inside. When I came out to claim the ribs and set them on the table, ‘ashes’ was a generous word to use to describe the middle rack! I had managed to prepare a burnt offering for the family!

We had enough to avoid starvation, but to pretend the meal was anything close to the culinary offering I had envisioned is laughable. (I was not laughing when I lifted the lid to the grill!)

I was so determined to pull off my plan unassisted (that was part of making it special for the ladies. They wouldn’t have to do any work) that I refused numerous offers of assistance.

This is not unlike life plans I make. I have them all laid out in my mind and I can’t wait to ‘surprise’ God with my efforts. I just know the completely independent accomplishment will make it more worthy of His recognition and praise.

However, my obsession with doing it myself is really the foundation for disaster. He continually offers to guide and assist, but I assure Him that I have everything under control (in other words, I’ll not be needing Him for this task). He patiently waits and watches while I scurry and fret. My dream becomes a nightmare and I finally end up where I should have started, asking Him for help. How often are the ashes of our lives the result of refusing help? Do you have any plans that it might be good to let God in on?

For Mother’s Day, the price of independence was a burnt rack of ribs and a bruised ego. We tossed the ribs, but I’ll have to live with the bruised ego until the family forgets…like that is ever going to happen! I’ll just have to come up with another plan to redeem myself…

Photo courtesy of Jonathan Assink

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