The Summer of Pops and Clicks

So Uncle Vic says I need to post something. It's been awhile, I know. So much has happened I'm not sure what to post about. It's been a crazy summer. I worked myself into brokenness. Seriously. In May we moved to a 120-acre farm, where we hope to stay until we can afford to buy a farm of our own and June! Well, June was all about jumping from one thing to the next and it's where I got broken, or rather finally broke...

Life became: cooking for a gig, meeting with a client to set a menu, handling emails, cooking again, heading to a prayer meeting, setting curriculum for Sunday school, prepping to teach, teaching, cooking, cleaning the commercial kitchen, pulling messages and answering phone calls, cooking for the fam, cleaning the house, laundry, laundry, laundry, shopping for a gig, unpacking from the move, then cooking for a gig, meeting with a client to set a menu, handling emails, cooking again, heading to a prayer meeting, setting curriculum for Sunday school, prepping to teach, teaching, cooking, cleaning the commercial kitchen, pulling messages and answering phone calls, cooking for the fam, cleaning the house, laundry, laundry, laundry, shopping for a gig, unpacking from the move only to start cooking for a gig, meeting with a client to set a menu, handling emails, cooking again, heading to a prayer meeting, setting curriculum for Sunday school, prepping to teach, teaching, cooking, cleaning the commercial kitchen, pulling messages and answering phone calls, cooking for the fam, cleaning the house, laundry, laundry, laundry, shopping for a gig, unpacking from the move, cooking and so on and so forth it went, or rather I did, like the proverbial hamster.

I had no time to rest, no time to think, or pray, or be because there was always something waiting for my attention, waiting to be accomplished or dealt with. But I should be able to do all these things I reasoned. With Christ I can do all things yes? Open wide your mouth and I will fill it He said. Hadn’t God done that? My life was full, full to choking. If only I was more dedicated, faithful, responsible I could do what needed doing, I could keep from choking on my blessings I reasoned and again I would plunge into the busyness.

About the middle of June I found myself catering a wedding for 230 guests. It was really a strange gig. When I first met with the bride and the groom they assured me the reception was going to be for around 150 people and as we got closer to the date the numbers kept going up. That just doesn't happen. Numbers go down usually by about 20% not up, but we pressed on with a shrug and a fake-it-till-you-make-it philosophy.

When the night before the wedding we found out that the tablecloths that had been ordered were, in fact, napkins and we couldn't get a hold of the linen guy we scrambled, found new tablecloths, and pressed on with a these-things-happen-and-it's-all-in-how-you-handle-it attitude and a smile.

When all the church ladies who offered to help with the reception and my hired assistant didn't show up to help until 40 minutes before "go time" I freaked, sloppily begged (as only a truly desperate person can) a couple of friends into helping, and pressed on with a go-with-the-flow-even-if-the-flow-is-a-rip-tide-that-will-ultimately-drag-you-into-shark-infested-waters, er... calm.

When the mother of the bride decided to forego the standard Jordan almonds wrapped in tulle wedding favor I applauded. When she then COMPLETELY filled the frig with 230 mint green boxes of Parisian macaroons and told me that they had to stay refrigerated and could I put them out for the guests just before they arrive I did my best to summon that Ninjitsu-earth-student-just-learn-to-endure-gracefully-like-the-rock-endures-the-slashing-storm spirit, a sort of stoic professionalism, but when faced with cooking for 230 with just a barbeque and a microwave (because that's all the reception facility had) with a short staff and now no refrigeration? Well, my head popped off. Clean off. "POP!" Just like that. No more head.

I don't know how audible the pop actually was or if anyone noticed that my head was missing 'cause I just kept on keeping on. It's hard to get worked up about the buffet getting trashed because people are behaving like piranha having a go at a water buffalo carcass when your head is missing. And I kept on moving through crisis and calm, prepping and plating food, clearing tables, washing dishes, directing staff and volunteers well into the night while, again I remind you, completely headless. I finally got to go home and rest for a day before the next evolution began, the next gig and was sorta thinking that perhaps my head would grow back sometime in the night, because it always had before.

My life had become chaotic, so completely immersed in the busy that I had become used to being used up, never fully rested, feeling like I was not so much accomplishing anything as just surviving, enduring, pressing on, pressing through, walking around without a head, a zombie life. Strange thing to get used to really. So I awoke waiting to feel something again, something to let me know that my head had grown back and that I cared again- tiredness? Frustration? Hopeless? Uselessness? Patience? Grey emotions sure, but emotions nonetheless right? Well, I'd like to tell you they were there with the new day, but they weren't. There were no emotions, no thoughts, just existence and I moved through my days filled with a static-y white noise. Occasionally I'd mourn my lost emotions, but it's hard to cry when you have no head so mostly I'd just move on to the next thing waiting. And I was half thinking that someone would notice, you know, my lack of a head, but no one really seemed to. I'd hear, "you look/sound tired" and I would want to laugh. Just tired? Is that what decapitation looks like? And I'd wonder if they were missing their head or maybe just their eyes.

I was finally broken. I had stopped caring and you can’t run a business when you don’t care because you stop answering the phone and responding to email, but you also can’t have a life without rest and there had been none for me. There was never rest just avoidance; just telling the waiting projects and to-do lists to hold while I rested my eyes a bit. It wasn't intentional this lack of attention to my business and responsibilities it was more like an involuntary reflex, like closing your eyes when you sneeze or bracing for impact. And now here we are. It’s been about 3 months since the night my head popped off and my emotions fled. I’d like to tell you that my life has dramatically changed, that I have learned to simplify and feel in technicolor once more, and just oh so many other new and uplifting things, however, life doesn’t slow down just because you do, rather it sweeps you a long, ass over tea kettle, for a time.

The catering business is no more. The only thing left to do is clean our stuff out of the commercial space and I confess that I have little energy or caring for that task. And there are other responsibilities that pull on me still, however, the other day I was looking over a project and it was pointed out to me that it wasn’t a one Beth job, that it in fact required at least 11 other people to help. No amount of one person’s initiative or faith can make this project a reality, but hands, many many hands. And something clicked and I felt hopeful. So that’s something, right? Who knows maybe my head is growing back? It’ll be nice to wear a hat again.