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A Lesson in Life from Rachael Ray

Today, we continue this month’s series on friendship. For the best reading experience, you may want to open this blog on your browser by clicking here. Some formatting does not show up correctly when delivered via email.

Today might not be your most productive day of the week, but I’m writing this on a Wednesday. If you’re reading this on a weekday, chances are you also got up early, made the bed, and got the kids out the door for school. On time, no less. Maybe those kids even brushed their teeth and are wearing matching socks. If it’s a good day, you probably even ate breakfast and exercised.

Resourcefulness and independence are two of the greatest joys of adulthood, aside from being able to eat whatever you want for breakfast and choose your own bedtime. You, my friend, are crushing it, maybe even in spite of eating whatever you want and choosing your own bedtime.

Good work. Congratulations on a job well done.

Two decades ago, I was hardly the put-together picture of grace I am today. KIDDING! But I was a brand new stay-at-home mom. I was frazzled and worn out and often at a loss of what to do with myself or my passel of babies. Every day brought new surprises. To cope I spent long waking hours bouncing little ones on my hip while episode after episode of Food Network cooking shows played in the background. The dust bunnies on the floor could have used a little focused attention, but common housework be damned—I was going to make a home-cooked meal for my family.

My good friend Rach (yep, I called her Rach😉) chatted happily with me from the TV in my keeping room. That girl could get a meal on the table in a half hour flat. Go, 30 Minute Meals!

Rachael used abbreviations for common ingredients (hello EVOO!) and rarely bothered with trade essentials like measuring cups and scales. Instead, she improvised this whole cooking thing. And really—isn’t improvisation in cooking a metaphor for life, too? So how did she do it? How did she get everything done within the constraints of that thirty minute time slot?

As you might have guessed, Rachael Ray isn’t known for being a pretentious gourmet or classically trained chef. She learned how to cook by watching and doing. In fact, whenever Rachael Ray used a shortcut like a boxed cake mix or a spice blend or even a can of chicken broth, she’d say, “Take the help where you can get it.”

Hey, are you talking TO ME?

Rachel made me believe that yes, I could do this, too.

Take the Help Where You Can Get It

I’ve never forgotten those words.

Take the help where you can get it is applicable to a whole range of disciplines. And though you might pride yourself on your independence and resourcefulness, (who wouldn’t?) we all know that life throws curveballs—some for which we’re woefully equipped to handle on our own and some we’re not expecting at all.

And so we take the help where we can get it.

We have to.

Let me tell you a short story about someone who helped me when I needed it most.

My fourth child was born right after Thanksgiving the year I had a second grader, kindergartener, and three year-old. Mornings were especially hectic, as I worked to get everyone out the door. Two of my kids could catch the bus in front of my house, but the three year-old had to be driven to preschool a few miles away nearly two hours after the other two loaded the bus. The timing of that run coincided perfectly with the newborn’s morning feeding and nap schedule. Now that I’m on the other side of parenthood, I’ll be the first to admit that in the grand scheme of things, loading the baby in the car and driving three miles to school is a minor inconvenience. But three miles with a cranky newborn IS a big deal when you’re sleep deprived and nursing! I wasn’t the best version of myself in those early days. Taking my son to school was hard, but you know what’s worse—forgetting to pick him up! Yep, I did that twice. (I’m not proud of it).

Enter my friend, Tami.

Tami came over three days a week, and took my little boy to preschool for me. That preschool was just a five minute drive from my house. But her help was a God-send. Surely she had her own long list of errands and chores that had to be completed on those days. If I protested, I don’t remember. At any rate, Tami ignored me. Bless her little heart. Day after day, she showed up at my house after she got her own kids off to school, and then helped me with mine. Her unselfish kindness blessed us both, Tami as the giver and me as the receiver.

Our friendship deepened.

As I rocked my little one to sleep, we often drank tea or had a snack together. Tami probably has no idea how valuable her friendship was to me during those early days. There was nothing especially earth-shattering about what she did. She simply filled a tangible need in that easy, unassuming way she has with all her friends. In doing so, Tami ended up helping me through what could have been an incredibly lonely season of isolation and exhaustion.

My youngest can now drive herself anywhere she needs to go. But maybe, like that younger, more harassed version me, you have friends who are facing challenges of their own. Maybe they look like they have it all together. You may be thinking, “I don’t know how they’re doing all this by themselves.” There’s a good chance they don’t know either. They want to be strong. They want to think that they don’t need anybody. Trust me—I know it’s hard to ask for help. But let’s be real—we don’t have to be that strong, and we do need each other.

There is no prize for being a solitary martyr.

If today you are facing a challenge and you feel overwhelmed, I hope you will TAKE the help where you can GET it. Your friends are standing by, ready to pour themselves out on your behalf.

And if this is not you, take a note from Tami’s playbook and OFFER the help where you can GIVE it.

I wasn’t lying when I said our friendship deepened. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Tami and I no longer live in the same town. When I moved from that house a year later, Tami came over and helped me pack up my kitchen. Her company alone was such a blessing to me. I will always count her among my dearest friends, and one of the main reasons why is because I know I can always count ON HER.

Want more good stuff?

Where Do We Go From Here? Lessons From Gumby

On September 2, 1955 creator Art Clokey produced his first ever claymation short film. Just a few pulsating lumps of clay set to jazz music became the first known recorded music video ever. One day, a producer named Sam Engel saw the film, and said to Art, “Can you make little clay figures out of that clay and animate them?” When Clokey said he could, Engel, in an incredible act of generosity, told him he’d finance the pilot.

“I want to improve the quality of television for children,” he said.

And that’s how Gumby was born. (source)

I never got into Gumby. He was before my time, and even when his popularity surged again in the 80s and 90s, I failed to pay much attention. The world of boys and books were much too interesting.

Recently, though, I came across an old photo of Gumby, and his origin story became interesting to me.

Did you know, for example, that his form was based on that of the Gingerbread Man?

Yeah, I see the resemblance.

Yeah, I see the resemblance.

But while the two characters may look similar on the outside, we all know what’s inside is what really makes them who they are.

Whereas the gingerbread man is made of flour, sugar, butter, and ginger (yum!), the humble Gumby is nothing but a simple lump of colored clay.

Clay is the basic medium for creative conception of new forms,” Art said in Gumby: The Authorized Biography of the World’s Favorite Clayboy . “It’s malleable, and it changes every time you touch it. You push and mash it, and a lump turns into something, just like magic.”

Have you felt a little bit like Gumby these last six months?

If you have felt like a bit of a lump, you’re not alone.

But are you Gumby or are you the Gingerbread Man?

Pushed and pulled in a million directions, dirty and misshapen through excessive manipulation, the interesting thing about Gumby is that he always returns to his original form. The Gingerbread Man, however, is fragile. He breaks and is consumed.

Where We Are

Just gonna tell y’all something. By the time you’ve been married over 40 years, you’ve been married to about four different people. So have they. It’s a miracle of God any of us ever make it.
— Beth Moore via Twitter, 9/24/2020

Gavin read that tweet out loud to me while we were on vacation last week, and we laughed because even though we’ve only been married (almost) 25 years, we know it’s true. We are different people than we were back when we said “I do” in 1996. Some people call it quits when they realize the person they’re with is different than the one they married, but we’re glad. We both looked at each other and said, “Thank God we’re not the same people we were 25 years ago!”

These days, I keep hearing people say, “I just want things to go back to the way they were!”

But even if the things do go back to the way they were, we never will.

We aren’t Gumby.

This season is one of those pivotal moments—something we’ll always point to as a definitive turning point in our lives—like 9/11 or our parents getting divorced or the birth of our first kid. Even if the world isn’t different, our world, the one we inhabit and take up space in, will never be the same. What’s happening to us is that we are being stretched, prodded, pushed, and mashed.

Will we be better?
We get to decide.

We may want to flush 2020 down the toilet for good, but before we do, let’s pause and remember: Happy endings only happen once all the lessons have been learned.

  • In what ways are you changing in this season?

  • When it’s over, what new pieces of yourself do you want to keep?

The Lessons We Learn

Write down some of the things you’ve learned in this season. Here are some of mine:

I need people more than I thought.
I waste time even when I have lots of time.
The good life has nothing to do with money.
Spending more time with my kids has been an unexpected delight in this season.
Peace follows the beauty we create—whether that’s in art, books, homemaking, or food.

And if you’re a Christian, take comfort in the fact that even if we are nothing but a humble lump of clay, we can count on God to make something beautiful out of us.

Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.
— Isaiah 64:8

Want more good stuff?

Stay tuned because on October 1st, I’ll be launching a 52-week series on Identity. Just a short thought on what it means to be fully you fully available to God delivered directly to your inbox every Sunday for the next 52 weeks. Sign up here.