You may look at the title and picture and think, “Oh, it’s coming – a rant about the love/hate relationship between a female and her chocolate.” But honestly, that’s not where I’m going. Besides, when it comes to rich, dark chocolate – there is no hate.
We just got back from a family vacation. I made sure to be specific that it was a ‘family’ vacation and not just a vacation. If you have 3 kids it’s really a ‘trip’ and not a vacation, at least not until they get older. It was, however, a very lovely and fun trip. We’re exhausted. But it was fun.
One of the reasons we took this trip was that a very generous couple offered their home in Seattle for us to use while they were away. The house was gorgeous. Everything sparkled and gleamed as if it was brand new.
Have you ever had that experience where you surround yourself with such beauty and then go home? When I walked into the doors of our own house, I had a sudden burst of energy and a sick desire to see if my home could too gleam and sparkle. The other big motivator was the hunger for just a few minutes to myself – quiet minutes, where my thoughts could actually finish a complete sentence.
And so, I scrubbed and polished and mopped and even brought out a putty knife to get in the tiny nooks and crannies. I was so proud of myself. While it didn’t look like a new kitchen, it came pretty darn close to the gleam I craved. Only one thing remained out of place –
Before I tell you what happened, have you ever had a moment that truly went in slow motion? Like in the movies?
This was one of those moments-
my recipe box sat atop the microwave. I reached up to put it back in its rightful spot in the cabinet. The recipe container bumped against the cocoa box and the lid flipped off the cocoa box. It rained and poured a literal COCOA FALLS.
“NOoooooooooo……” My hands tried to catch the falling box and missed, managing to fling even more cocoa around the room. As my cleaning efforts were not completely DRY yet, I not only had cocoa powder to clean up – I had WET cocoa powder to clean up. It looked like a mud bath.
My first thought sprung to mind from Ecclesiastes. Meaningless, everything is meaningless…. Just as I finished cleaning up the mud, my children had completed their popcorn-bedtime-snack in the other room. I told them to put their bowls in the sink and head for bed.
I walked behind my three year-old and she decided to, in a moment of childhood ‘let’s see what happens’, throw her mostly full bowl of popcorn up into the air. Apparently the character in the show they were just watching did something similar. It sprinkled popcorn down all around her… and my once gleaming kitchen.
The second thought that came to mind was also from the same book of the Bible: There is a season for everything.
I hereby proclaim it is not my season for gleaming. It may never be. Gleaming is highly overrated, and, should only be reserved for other places I visit while on a trip.