Another stray thought just popped into my over-worked brain, so I thought I'd download before I combusted. I'm sure I'll regret staying up to write this when my daughter wakes me up, demanding "talking cereal" (rice krispies in more formal terms), at 4:30 in the morning. I only condone this because it's not sugar injected, chocolate coated, marshmallow sprinkled, cavity inducing trash that posses as "part of a healthy breakfast!" No, that stuff, I keep for my personal stash. However, I wait for a more decent time to indulge. Say, around noonish. That should be the mandatory breakfast hour, dontcha think?
Anyway, I was minding my own business, cleaning up the chaos that gravitates toward my work station, when out of the blue, it hits me. What recipe book was God working from when he cooked me up? I can see him, now, with a Betty Crocker cookbook in His massive hands and wearing a red and white checkered apron with frills along the bottom. Pots, pans, measuring cups, and raw ingredients are spread about a cosmic table. I can hear Him reading each ingredient out loud as his thick finger moves down the list, then searching madly for what to add to the mixing bowl.
"One cup destiny, thoroughly sifted. One level cup of free will. Three tablespoons of intelligence. What the heck, a pinch more won't hurt. Oh yeah, don't forget the common sense. That might be why the last batch didn't turn out. Let's see.....where was I? One tablespoon of fresh personality. Where did I put that? There it is! Behind the jar of dishonesty. Don't want to add that by mistake! Here's where we get creative. Two teaspoons of initiative. Wait, I'm out of initiative. Not to worry, I'll substitute with a little imagination. That should do the trick. I think I'll add a little Attention Deficit Disorder to give this dish character. Oh, and maybe a dash of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for color. Not too much though. Don't want it to distract from the flavor. Now, mix on medium speed until well blended. Which pan do I want to use this time? Let's try the short one! Finally, pour into mold and send into world to bake for........"
Why these little thoughts materialize suddenly, and without warning, into my already stressed brain is a mystery to me. But, once they are there, they don't just go away. They sprout like dandelions in the field of my mind, spreading their seeds in every direction. What starts out as a mental image of God in a frilly apron, soon turns into a philosophical self-discussion on our purpose for being. After all, what if our sole reason for existence is simply God's attempt at making a perfect batch of humans? Makes sense, doesn't it? The trials and temptations we face in life are like the temperature of the oven. If the temperature is too hot, the outside burns to a cinder and the inside is raw. If the temperature is too cold, we don't rise properly. If we're left in too long, we can become hard as a rock. And think of this, if we're cooked beside another dish that has a strong, foul flavor or odor, we can absorb that. Now, look back on all the people you have met. How many of those people were missing a key ingredient? I've known my share! My recipe would be missing self-discipline, for one.
Ridiculous as it all might seem, I can't help but wonder about this. The sad thing, is that it makes more sense the longer I think about it. Each deliberation spurns new questions, which expand my idea further. What if animals are created the same way? Is evolution simply a correction in a faulty recipe? Are shallow people made from pre-mixed recipes, out of a box or can, in an effort to save time and cabinet space? What if the world is just a buffet table of assorted goods in the making? How long was my timer set for?
I guess there really are no answers. None we can bank on, anyway. Still, it would be helpful to know why my mind is so fertile to such off-the-wall concepts. Or better yet, how to turn them off. For now, I suppose, I'll have to satisfy myself with knowing that if I am a human dish, I was definately made from scratch and originallity was on the ingredient list.
Okay, I've been doing my best not to ask it, but I won't get any rest until I do. Do you think God licks the spoon when he's done?
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