Kitchen Duty

Part of my homework assignment for my spiritual leadership class was to shadow someone and note what I learned from them. Well God, having the sense of humor that He does, was getting ready for a good laugh.
I was volunteering over the weekend at a ladies retreat and I would be one of about 25 women working in the KITCHEN!
If you know me at all you are on the floor laughing so I will give you a moment to compose yourself………..
I was definitely out of my comfort zone. I have a hard enough time cooking for two people never less 150 women. I showed up with that look, you know the deer in headlights look.

 I figured I would just be a part of the clean up group and stay away from the actual cooking area but our team leader set up 2 groups so everyone would have their time cooking, yea...
The stove was the size of my kitchen and the pots could hold a small human child. I teamed up with a great girl named Mandy who made my experience a pleasant one.
I was in charge of oatmeal. OK I can do that, you rip open the packet pour some boiling water and you’re good to go. NOOOO they wanted real oatmeal in that huge pot! Did you know you can actually cook oatmeal on a stove? Who knew?
First morning went well the oatmeal looked like the instant I know and love. Mandy and I put it on our cart and served it with pride. I smiled at each lady so they would know that I made the oatmeal!
Not so much the second morning. Morning two it was more like oatmeal soup. I put on my game face and served it like it was supposed to look that way and tried not to make eye contact. I just offered a sweet smile and plenty of brown sugar.
Day three I knew what not to do to avoid oatmeal soup but apparently went too far the other way. My oatmeal pretty much stuck to the serving spoon. It was one of those where you had to really flick the spoon to get it off. I once again put on my game face and with the help of my new friend Mandy served it to our awaiting ladies. I didn't want to talk about it.
The women were more than gracious and I assume took pity on me.
The young lady I was “shadowing” was our head cook, a beautiful young girl named Julie. She was gracious and patient. It was weird for me being in a situation where I was the novice and having someone so much younger over me. Not that I had a problem with a younger person being in charge I just felt so inadequate because I felt like I was supposed to know what I was doing. I think it’s good for a person to be the new girl every once in a while so we remember what it’s like.
This task required team work and we were constantly on a schedule. One evening Mandy and I were supposed to cook the vegetable medley, did I mention it was for 150 women.

Again the human size pots were brought out. While Julie was going over the recipe Mandy realized she had to be somewhere else leaving me the medley maker. Julie continued reading the recipe with me and I shook my head and smiled as she spoke. I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't have my glasses on and could not see a thing. Because God is good another woman must have smelt the fear and came along side me. She told me we had to blanch the vegetables. Blanch, wasn't she one of the golden girls? I had no idea what she was talking about. In my house its microwave 2 minutes on high and serve.
The experience I came away with was all about our amazing leader. She never appeared frazzled. As I would explain I had no idea what to do she would just smile and say it will be OK it will all work out. When she saw my oatmeal soup and the look on my face she gently said no one would notice. She never got aggravated with any of us. She always kept her cool and she had a lot of responsibility on her shoulders. She was truly a servant not just for the ladies we were feeding but to each of us women who were volunteering. She took what could have been a horrible experience for me and made it an enjoyable cooking experience. I never thought I would put the words cooking and enjoyable in the same sentence.
Julie’s kindness encouraged me to give it my best and have a sense of pride about my task. I’ll be honest there were a couple of women there that if they were in charge it would not have had the same outcome. I’m not dissing them they did their jobs great and were in the right place at the right time but for me it was good that their place wasn't having to deal with me.
All and all we had an amazing group of women with the same heart. A bond servant heart. Each ladies goal was to make a wonderful, beautiful place for our guest to enjoy a meal.
I shared with my class about my experience and how having a servant leader was an awesome thing to watch and be a part of.
A servant leader keeps a team together and has the best interest of the group on their heart. A servant leader can lead with love because we all respond to love.
Thank you Julie and all the awesome women I served with!
The end of this jewel is a story my son Nathanael wrote for a high school English project. He was given a title and had to be descriptive. I thought you would like it and it will give you a better idea of me in the kitchen.
Enjoy

Nathanael Duran 9/12/08 4th Period

Mama’s Kitchen

It’s a peaceful Saturday morning and all the inhabitants of the house are fast asleep, all but one. Feverishly at work in the kitchen, my mother attempts to prepare breakfast for the family. It’s not the wafting scent of fresh eggs or fried bacon that rends me from my tranquil dreams, but the piercing screams of the smoke detector’s warning assaulting my ears. The message is clear, breakfast is ready.
I rub the rest of the sleep from my bleary eyes and cautiously approach our small kitchen. I enter the arched threshold and proceed past the round oak table on my left complete with four rod iron chairs and adorned with a single vase filled with plastic flowers. Before arriving at the scene of the commotion I stop at the cream colored side-by-side refrigerator and freezer, more a colossal photo collage then a place to store food. Many fond memories can be revisited merely by gazing at the surface of our fridge, a picture of my sister falling out of the canvas boat while white water rafting, is merely one of the many examples. A smile finds its way to my lips as I recall that adventure but my attention is drawn elsewhere.
Continuing on I finally reach my destination, the metallic four burner stove above which my mother is engaged in an epic battle against the frying pan and its flaming contents. The acrid scent of burning meat fills the air of the kitchen and assaults my nostrils as a rising plume of black smoke makes its way to my throat and eyes causing me to cough wildly.
As if in retaliation for being burnt to a crisp the bacon fights back with its searing hot grease ,spitting it at high velocities like an erupting volcano, at the exposed skin of my mother. The pops and sizzles of the raging lava boiling incessantly within its cast-iron cage, coupled with the cries of pain from my mother and the blaring alarm ring through my ears causing my head to ache.
Feeling overwhelmed I rush to the stainless steel sink on the opposite side of the room. A window sits above it located between two sets of wooden cabinets attached to the wall. Within the cabinets lie an assorted array of mismatched cups and dishes gathered over the years with little care of formality. Light filters in through the window dancing on the surface of the steel faucet and stinging my already watering eyes. Finally reaching it I splash the cool rejuvenating water on my face and breather a sigh of relief as the feelings of nausea begin to pass.
I turn back to see how my mother is faring. Apparently having given up on the bacon I watch as she turns off the stove and sets the smoking frying pan down. Our eyes meet and we stare at each other for an awkward moment and then simultaneously burst into uproarious laughter.
As the smoke clears the two of us move back past the refrigerator and table to the food pantry set in the wall and reluctantly reach for our favorite boxes of cereal. At last we sit down with our makeshift meal and indulge in quiet conversation discussing the events of our hectic morning laughing all the while. An event like this is not so unusual in my mothers kitchen but what I always take away from them is that the time spent together and just talking is more important then the quality of the meal.