My husband is famous for his metaphors. Maybe it’s being Tamilian. Perhaps it’s his brainy ability to see how seemingly random ideas or events are related. Or it could just be a manifestation of his own unique perception of reality. Whatever it is, I’m always amazed – and sometimes amused – by the metaphors my delicious husband dishes out.
Last summer, just before he left for Dubai, he was cooking dinner. (Yes, an Indian man who cooks. He’s amazing.) Leaning on the counter, watching him happily chop vegetables and prepare spices, we talked together about the uncertainty of the future, the undefined roles, the seeming randomness of what we were stepping into, and our fears that this was more foolishness than faith.
He said something then that I’ve held on to all these months when our life has been chaos, when we don’t have a clue what we’re doing, when it looks like we’re just wasting our time and nothing will ever come of the risks, the losses, and the hard work.
“It is like having all the vegetables chopped and all of the spices prepared. It’s the prep that takes the time. When it’s time to eat, all you have to do is heat the oil – dinner will be ready in 1/2 an hour because all of the real work is already done. “
So right now we’re chopping. Sometimes the onions make me cry. And I still think we’re missing some of the spices. But the point is that we’re cookin’. And at the right time it’ll all come together.
My husband can tell when I’ve cooked a meal in a rush just to get something on the table and when I’ve taken some care to do all of the necessary steps. Slowing down a little so ingredients can be cut to the right size, added in a certain order and served in a beautiful bowl transforms a chore into a feast.
It’s a metaphor.