I underestimated how much time I would need to prepare to host my sister and brother-in-law and their six children for dinner. When they knocked on the door, I was still rushing to try to get everything done. Nothing good happens when you’re in a hurry in the kitchen.
I steamed the broccoli too long and burned the bottom of the pan—and ended up with slightly smoky broccoli.
I spilled lemonade all over myself and the floor while making the punch.
I overcooked the pasta.
And somehow I used up all the Old Bay and had hardly any left to put in the dip. Running out of Old Bay might not be a disaster in your household, but we’re in Baltimore, and my sister Treasa and I were both aghast. Would the dip even be edible?
So, dinner was a little bumpy. But then Treasa pulled out a container of homemade fudge and a pan of fresh apple crisp—still warm from the oven—for dessert. My husband showed the children his toy trains and let them load logs and coal, and they loved it. Then we gave them little plastic horses and red envelopes for the Chinese New Year of the Horse, which starts Feb. 17.
In the end, plenty went wrong, but even more went right, and everyone had a fantastic time.
It reminded me, as it often does, of the book character Amelia Bedelia. She follows all the instructions for household chores literally, and everything goes wrong. She dusts the furniture by adding dust to it, changes the towels by cutting them with scissors, and dresses the raw chicken in clothing.
But just when you think her employers will give up on her once and for all, she pulls a delicious pie or cake out of the oven, and all is forgiven. Everyone sits down to enjoy dessert, and no one cares what damage has been done. Their mouths are too full of lemon meringue.
We are all a little like Amelia Bedelia. We botch things terribly—by mistake or on purpose. But we also have these moments where we shine.
As we prepare to head into Lent, I like to keep in mind that I can’t fix everything. All the burners are going at once, and I can only change so much. Maybe this is a chance to pick one thing to get right.
Lent can feel like a time to change everything—your health and your work-life balance and your addiction to your phone and your suffering prayer life and on and on and on. But what if we recognize that we are going to continue to take plenty of missteps. What if we try to focus just on one area to grow in holiness?
Maybe it’s 10 minutes of silent prayer with God each day.
Maybe it’s going to one weekday Mass.
Maybe it’s picking up five extra pantry items at the store each weekend and donating them.
Maybe it’s carving out one-on-one time with a family member or friend you’re not connecting with.
Maybe it’s as simple as starting the day with the phrase a Jesuit suggested in his homily the other day: “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.”
This Lent, you’re going to burn the broccoli. You’re going to overcook the pasta. You’re going to try to cram too much into the sliver of time you have available. But pick one thing to do on your Lenten journey, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find yourself pulling that steaming apple pie out of the oven just in time for dessert.
Let’s do this. May your Lent be a fruitful one in all the best ways.
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