I can be task oriented, I admit it. If I set out to do something, I focus and get it done. When my niece and I attempted making pie last week, I was on a mission.
She rubbed the flour between her fingers, commented on its softness. She spent five minutes experimenting with a tiny ball of dough, exclaiming over its “squishiness,” testing how far she could pull it into a string before it broke.
All this was stretching out how long the job was taking. I wanted to keep moving, accomplish the goal.
Her wonder overflowed when we added brown sugar to the raspberries. I almost missed it, trying to measure out the second tablespoon. She was giggling to watch the small mound of sugar melt into the berries, quickly dissolving on its own, overjoyed that there was a second spoonful to watch disappear.
To me, a routine task. To her, a wonderful adventure. She took delight in the smallest things, and bubbled over with joy. How much of our Father’s world I miss, dulled by how familiar it is. Caught up in the need to accomplish, I overlook the joy and wonder of God’s creation, joy and wonder that can be found even in simple things in my kitchen.