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How To Make Angels Laugh, 101

October 5, 2012

I was a picky eater as a kid.  If it was green or grew in a garden, I probably didn’t like it.  If it was slimy, I probably didn’t like it.  If it gave a sudden crunch in a dish that was otherwise not crunchy, I probably didn’t like it.

I have always had a particular dislike for cruciferous vegetables. The word cruciferous is Latin for cross-bearing, and it has to do with the shape of their blooms.  It’s the family of veggies that includes broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, greens, Brussels sprouts, turnips, and such.  The exceptions were radishes, which I didn’t know were cruciferous vegetables until recently, and raw turnips, which I would nibble straight from the ground at my grandpa’s farm.  Anything else was just nasty.

Years ago I would bemoan my frustration with God.  I used to refer to Him as the Brussels Sprout God.  He seemed to be the sort of person who coldly said “Eat your Brussels sprouts because they’re good for you.  I don’t care if they make you gag.”  I didn’t like that I saw Him that way, but it was how my life seemed to go.  I didn’t really feel loved by God.  It was more a principle that I had to believe, not something I could really experience.  Who really feels loved when they’re trying to choke down a vile, stinky vegetable that makes them sick at first whiff?  Who feels loved when that love seems to depend upon one’s performance in doing something they despise doing, and who won’t come near until it’s done?

It wasn’t me, that’s for sure.  And it was hard to embrace relationship with Someone who didn’t seem interested in me.  I knew God wasn’t a narcissist, but the relationship felt decidedly one-sided.  And I felt guilty for feeling that way.  Guilt=another giant Brussels sprout.

It would take years of blogging to explain why I felt that way about God…and pretty much every other person on the planet.  It’s really not important, anyway.  The bottom line is that I was viewing Him through a lens that was distorted by life experiences and well-meant but incorrect teaching.  It took years of Him walking me through healing to deliver me from that view of Him.

But He did.  And He set me on fire in the process.

And wouldn’t you just know it…after years of hating Brussels sprouts, Mr. Sparky has found a couple of ways to cook them so that I not only tolerate them, I love them.  Seriously, I can’t get enough of them.  I bet I ate a half pound of them at dinner tonight.  The secret is that they have to be caramelized to the point of almost being burnt.  The darker, the better.  A squirt of lemon is nice, too, but mo’ fire is mo’ better and I pick out the ones that look decidedly toasted.

I’m sure all of heaven is laughing.  I guess the joke is on me.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. October 5, 2012 11:13 pm

    I cook them with pancetta. Cover the bottom of a pan with the pancetta then put b.s. that have been cut in half with the cut side on the pancetta. Cover and cook without disturbing over medium heat until the pancetta is crisp. Yum!

  2. October 6, 2012 12:07 am

    well…that explains a lot. this wood’s pretty f*ckin’ damp. guess I have a ways to go.
    thanks for sharing that. anger and hope are strange bedfellows, but I’m a strange guy.

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