Muffins.

I have a love-hate relationship with baking. Actually, no, I don’t – I love baking. What I hate is baking in my kitchen. With each move, our stuff has become increasingly more disorganized. Example: there are measuring cups in the drawer by the kitchen door… there are also measuring cups in the cabinet by the sink. Half of the stuff we don’t use every day is STILL packed up, like a year and a half after we moved here. We have a plan to renovate the kitchen, dining room, and den, so I keep telling myself there’s no point in putting everything away just to move it again soon. But, ugh, I get so frustrated. You couldn’t tell by looking at my house right now, but I really do get joy out of having a neat, tidy, clean house. Something about having everything in its place makes me feel more put together in other aspects of my life. But… for whatever reason (or excuse) I just haven’t made any of those things a priority the last few years. It’s circular, and I’m not sure what started first, but having a messy house makes me feel like a mess, which makes me not want to do anything, which makes everything more of a mess. I get so mad at myself when I finally walk by the table and put a piece of mail where it goes or put the dirty bib that’s been sitting on the chair for days in the laundry. It takes like two seconds, and the amount of relief I feel is tremendous. My husband and I both note all the time how much better and less stressed we feel when we simply clean off the coffee table. Our power went out briefly like three weeks ago, and the clock on my bedside table has been flashing ever since. What is wrong with me?

Back to my point… (because nothing is ever just what it is with me. A muffin is not just a muffin, there’s a big huge emotional ordeal that comes with it.) I had been putting off making these muffins for a week. I had the strawberries, and they were starting to get a little old. I HAD to use them or throw them away. I begrudgingly dragged myself in the kitchen, trying to remind myself how much I would enjoy the finished product and how I wanted to make these for myself and my family. As I was mixing everything, I felt exasperated at how long it was taking me because everything was all over the place. But, as I put them in the oven, I felt calm. I remembered that I really do enjoy baking. I enjoy putting just the right ingredients together to make something delicious, and I find the mixing and stirring relaxing. I like feeling as if I have accomplished something. I like the simplicity of the work and resulting outcome. I like preparing food for my family. I also find the end product pretty tasty 🙂

I get so frustrated with myself about things like this. Why can’t I remember my blessings? I have a wonderful home that has a kitchen in it. I have a kitchen with a full (albeit unorganized) pantry. I have legs that can carry me into my kitchen, and hands that can pull bowls and ingredients from the shelves. I have breath in my lungs. I have everything I need and so, so much more, and I complain. I complain that my house doesn’t look like a picture from a magazine. I complain that my body is tired from working to provide for my family and from taking care of baby girl. I complain because I’d rather sit on my butt and not have muffins than to get up and do the little bit of work it takes to make them. God has given me infinitely more than I deserve, and I complain.

I pray that He opens my eyes to see each and every aspect of my life, no matter how big or small, as the blessing it is.