I’ve had a weak year, or at least what I thought would be a weak year. It all started several months ago when late one night when my 7-year old son asked if he could eat the last piece of Graeter’s ice cream cake which was safely tucked away in our garage freezer. “Yes”, I said knowing full well it was too late to be eating cake and this might give me an automatic, don’t-pass-Go, pass into the Bad Mommy Club.
But by saying yes, and the new found ease with which I whispered yes to him, led to an afternoon where I was all alone at the animal shelter adopting a sweet doggie for our family. Then I heard myself say yes, and murmur a prayer, as my 12-year old son asked to play organized football.
Next, I hear a resounding yes as I sign a contract on the dotted line – to write a cookbook for a regional publisher. Yes, Julia, my sweetest girl, you can lie in my bed while we each read our own books.
Miraculously, through my yeses, I’ve unleashed a new-found power of creativity. Saying yes has given me room to step outside my limited view of how this world should run, into the surrender of what someone else wants, or better yet what someone else needs. My kids needed a dog to bathe, feed, run around the backyard, and to lie with on the family room floor. My tween-aged son needed the camaraderie of sweaty, tackle-happy friends. My fellow Kentuckians need to hear about fresh, simple ways to cook Kentucky ingredients and how to never run from the privilege of cooking.
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, but cooking at home is always a big yes to slowing down the world while you cook. Every time you shop for ingredients, or roll out the dough to feed others, you are saying yes to not only good smells wafting through your home, but yes to caring for those you feed. To me there is no greater gift than love shared through a home cooked meal. And in my opinion, there is no weakness in saying yes to that.