Growing up, we were blessed to enjoy meat and potatoes at most of our suppertime meals. On our farm, we grew potatoes and raised pigs and Black Angus cattle. Butchering time provided meat for the freezer and lard for the cast iron skillet. Everything tasted better fried in lard. (Later, I would learn the effect of lard on my arteries.)
In our family of six, there were few leftovers following our meals. But when there were, my mother made good use of them. Mashed potatoes were a frequent leftover and the following day we enjoyed yummy potato cakes. My mother’s hands shaped the chilled mashed potatoes into patties, plopped them onto a plate for flouring, and then dropped them into a hot cast iron skillet bubbling with lard. I ate a lot of potato cakes growing up and loved every one of them.
Too often, my leftovers get pushed to the back of the fridge, lost in the shadows of milk jugs and orange juice cartons . They are eventually discovered well past their safe consumable date and into the trash they go. I need to be more aware of what is lurking in my refrigerator.
For this past month, I have been offering only leftovers to God. Falling into bed exhausted by the hustle and bustle of the season, I see my closed Bible on the nightstand as I mumble a few half-hearted prayers before drifting off to sleep. All I am serving to my Lord and Savior these days are leftovers.
But other areas of my life are receiving extra helpings from a full Krista buffet: shopping, cooking, cleaning, driving, wrapping, and decorating. Let’s not forget, eating! What remains for God? Leftovers. Bing and Burl are getting more daily servings than the birthday boy Himself.
But my loving God waits patiently. Day in and day out. He is waiting because He wants me, all of me. He wants my first, second, third courses plus dessert too! He wants me when I am smiling, when I am shedding tears, when I am loving others, and when I am failing. He wants every bit and every bite. He deserves the filet mignon and prime rib of me; not bits and pieces of forgotten scraps pushed to the back of the fridge.
So I am challenging myself to reconsider my choices and my priorities. Why is my life-menu so full? Why haven’t I allowed any time for the Prince of Peace? I know I can do better. I want to do better. I want to love the Lord with all my heart, all my soul, all my mind, and all my strength. Mark 12: 30 (NIV) Nothing there implies leftovers.
Today, I open up my Bible and begin reading His love letter to me. I left God several weeks ago in Galatians. I read and lean into my Abba, Father. In the quietness of the day, I offer Him – me. Pausing, resting, and intentionally making time for Mighty God, I serve Him a helping of my heart, my soul, my mind, and my strength. A main course holy reunion, no leftovers lurking anywhere.
I might even find time to check my fridge too.