Habit

Good morning Damen und Herren!

Yesterday we ran out of garbage bags. We started a temporary trash bag next to the garbage to last us until we buy some more. I cannot tell you how hard it has been to not chuck my trash in the trash can that has no bag in it! I am most definitely a creature of habit, and the trash dilemma has reminded me of it.

I remember in culinary school when a chef instructor would show me how they wanted me to cut a red bell pepper. I would nod and say, "Yes, chef." Although my words were subordinate, my knife was not. With every new pepper I grabbed I would have to remind myself to do it his way and use my old method. Although I tried my best to follow directions, my habits would always take over on at least 20% of the peppers. I was embarrassed when the chef would see the messed up peppers because, really, how hard is it to just follow directions? Apparently harder than it seems.

Habits are hard to kick. Once the pathway in your brain has been traveled a couple times, good luck trying to forge a new trail. I'm grateful for culinary school in that sense. The chefs there coached me in breaking bad habits and building new ones. They didn't scold me when my small diced carrots were too small. Instead they showed me how to try and fix what I was doing wrong. Being corrected, in any sense, is not my favorite thing. I like being right.

During my first semester in the culinary program, a small suggestion or criticism from a chef made my face redden and my hands shake. I have always been a sensitive person, and although being sensitive is helpful for other people, it can be devastating for me. Being overly sympathetic and sensitive can drain you and leave you defenseless. However, by the end of my time in the program I was so used to corrections and criticisms that I was conditioned to by-step the physical sensations of embarrassment, and plow on to discover how I could perform better. This was a valuable lesson.

I still suffer from the effects of a blind siding criticism once in a while, but for the most part I'm able to look past the hurt. Sometimes I can only carry on the facade of ease until I have the opportunity to be alone and pity myself. I'm not proud of those instances, but I'm human and I fail sometimes. My pastor said something in his sermon on Sunday that struck me as super important. I scrabbled around in a fluster to type his words into my phone before I forgot them. He said, "Don't wait for perfection. Celebrate progress."

Let's do that more often, okay? Let's high five, hug, and slap each other on the back for getting through another day. Let's savor the smell of dinner cooking, the warmth of a preheated car, and the twinkling Christmas lights on the trees outside, because we are taking steps to become more like Jesus. We are works in progress. We will never be perfect. Let's celebrate.

Love,
Charlotte