“What’s that in your hand?”
It was Lee, our friend from church who’d burst energetically into our lives some years back. An empty nester, she’d adopted us, pulling us right into her heart and life, blessing us with her eager love and her way with food.
I’ll never forget what she told me, that mother of three sons, when she learned of our most surprising and unexpected pregnancy. “I always thought,” she said, eyes alight, “that the only thing better than having three boys, would’ve been having four.” And with that one remark, something in my heart eased, and I knew that whatever it was, whether a girl or yet another boy, it would be a great and wonderful gift.
For months, she came faithfully, spending the day cooking and baking, laying up food in our freezer with dinner in the oven. It was what she knew to do for this exhausted, working mama with the brand-new baby, three other boys, and a husband. It was how she loved, this grandmother, and helped a girl whose own mama lived far, far away. What a gift it was.
Yesterday, she was back. For six hours, Hurricane Lee (that’s what I call her most affectionately) did what she does. And when she left, here’s what she left: meatloaf, poor man’s steak, chicken tetrazzini, and a lasagna in the freezer. In the fridge, a pot of chicken in broth rested alongside a bag of noodles, homemade, to be cooked for tonight’s dinner.
In the oven for last night’s dinner was a family favorite, fried chicken. And on the stove? Pan gravy made from the drippings, a vegetable, and potatoes, cubed and cooking.
On the counter sat a red velvet cake with a not-cream-cheese-’cause-it’s-much-much-better frosting, layered and made from scratch. And in the freezer (oh, there’s more), there was half of the batch of 91 fresh chocolate chip cookies and 2 dozen unbaked dinner rolls, ready to rise and bake. All of this, mind you, in six hours flat and all of it (get this) mixed by hand. All of it.
Thinking of Lee’s visit here yesterday, I remembered this – the joy on her face as she used her gifts. The utter happiness in the labor, knowing she was making a difference. The sound of her laugh as she worked with the boys.
I remembered, too, the Lord’s penetrating question to a fearful Moses who thought he was unfit for the task: “What’s that in your hand?”
And I thought of you. You have gifts, too. You do!
You have a passion, something you love, something you’re really good at. It may not be a rolling pin and a mixing bowl like Lee. It may not be a pen like me. But you have something…there’s something in your hand, and you’ve been asked to use it.
Stop living in fear. Stop holding back ’cause it might not be enough. Stop doubting, okay? The One who put whatever-it-is in your hand, will help you do whatever-it-is that you were born to do.
Hey, you. What’s that in your hand?