Bits and Pieces

Last Thursday evening I was going through my daily ritual of trying to find something to make for supper.  (Sure I could plan ahead, but what fun would that be?) 

An expedition into the fridge and cupboards netted me some leftover cooked ground beef, a bag of not-too-old potatoes, a can of green beans I had actually bought it for the dog, who is supposed to be on a green bean diet (Dr. Jay swears it'll work), and a container of cheese spread of the sort that is supposed to be smeared on crackers.  I had bought it a few weeks back as a manager's special.  Its best-by date had come and gone, but surely I could heat it on the stove, add the meat and a splash of milk, and turn it into an interesting sauce to spoon over mashed potatoes.

Yyyeah, that wasn't such a great idea.  The cheese had a nice sharp tang to it, but it tasted like it was full of sand.  Heating it up only seemed to make it worse.  My cheesy sauce semi-plan was a no-go.

My eldest wandered into the kitchen.  Accustomed to my desperation dinners, he knew I would be open to suggestions.  "Got salsa?  Why not use those tortillas and make tacos?"  He was right.  Tacos were the prefect simple solution. 

I looked doubtfully at the big bowl of steaming potatoes that was now on the counter, noting aloud that mashed potatoes and tacos don't mix. In true teenage-boy style, he declared, "Hey, I know.  We could put the potatoes ON the tacos!"

And thus the potaco was born.  Yes, it was assembled from a handful of random odds and ends, none of them really fit for a meal.  And yes, it wasn't that good.  (I mean, come on.  Mashed potatoes in a taco.  You weren't expecting me to say it was delicious, were you?)  But still, there was something oddly endearing about our new creation.

I think part of it is the name.  Potaco.  It's just fun to say. 

And I think we also liked the potaco because it started out as a sandy-cheese failure, but somehow, mishmosh that it was, it had become a new, interesting thing, created by us.  Something unique and quirky that was more than the sum of its parts.

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Life is full of potaco days.  Days when nothing goes according to plan.  When you forgot that you were supposed to make a plan in the first place.  Days when the best you can do is try to grab hold of one or two good things and call it adequate.

I often find myself wishing I were having a better day.  Or living in a better way, more organized perhaps, or more focused, or more effective, so that I could feel good about what I have to show for each 24-hour chunk of life.

But most days aren't like that. Lots of days are full of odds and ends and unexpected bits, false starts and failures, restarts and just doing the best you can.

That night, as I dished up our odd dinner (complete with dog beans), my eldest pulled out his phone with a laugh.  "I might just need to tell my friends that we're having potacos," he told me.  "I think we've really come up with something here."

Every once in a while, amid my near-constant stream of self-evaluation and criticism and feeling I ought to be doing something better, I am struck by the realization that my crazy, hashed-together days are...well, they're potacos.  They are new, interesting, and even exciting, even though they're not at all what I expected. 

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Bits and pieces.  Put together into a whole that, for some inexplicable reason, has worth.

It's not only our days that are potacos, my friends.

Each of us are full of bits and pieces.  Good pieces.  Not so good pieces.  Leftover chunks of time, cold emotions, parts that look better than they really are.  Surprising bits, strengths we didn't know we had.  A mishmash.

I don't always feel like my parts add up to much.  My internal evaluations convince me I'm inadequate, and the sting of being rejected leaves me wishing I were made of some other parts.

But in Jesus, my Heavenly Father makes all things new.  He takes me the way I am and makes my pieces into something interesting and unique.  He made me to be a me.  He made you to be a you.  By giving us His Son He has given us a new name, a new identity, a worth beyond explanation.  Just as we are.

Take a look in the mirror.  God has really come up with something.  Something unique.  Quirky.  So much more than the sum of its bits and pieces parts. 

Just for today, see yourself as He sees you.  As his totally awesome potaco.

First published in The Alpena News, June 4, 2016