A brand new rotisserie oven sits on my kitchen counter. The infomercial claimed that I all I have to do is set it and forget it. If it really saves me as much time as they claim, I might have enough time to squeeze in a nervous breakdown.
I hope it works, because Iím in need of a good break down. Iíve earned one. We have been living out of boxes in a rental home for the past six months, while we remodel a ninety year-old house. It is a set of circumstances that doesnít leave much time for the trivialities in life such as eating, sleeping, and breathing. Crises are a luxury I can not afford.
My new kitchen is equipped with all of the modern appliances, designed to help me save time, be a happier person, solve all of my health issues, and bring peace and love to mankind in general. Perhaps, once we move in and the boxes are unpacked, I will plug in my new rotisserie, and find the time to sit and have a good worry over things.
This isnít my first foray into time saving appliances. In the dark recesses of my kitchen cupboards, there lie bread machines, juicers, indoor grills, and cookie presses, all designed to save time.
The bread machine seemed like a good idea at first. If I wanted a tuna sandwich Ė all I had to do was slop the bread mix into the machine, set the timer, and five hours later, presto! It didnít occur to me that by the time the bread was done, I could have starved to death.
It used to be that people had more time for crises. They could slap a tuna sandwich together, climb a Tibetan mountain, and seek out the answers to the age old questions, ďWho am I, and what is the purpose of my life?
It occurred to me that with all these appliances whirring and roasting and blending around the place, weíre more tied to the home than we used to be. Luckily, an easier way to have a crisis has been invented. Itís called the Internet. With the advent of search engines, you can get the answer to almost anything. So I Googled myself.
If youíve never Googled yourself, you need only type your name in the search engine, and see what comes up. For instance, I learned that I have died three times. Funny, I donít even remember being sick, but there you have it.
Iíve been married twice, but Iíve buried four husbands. During one of my lives, I was a lawn bowling champion and I directed childrenís plays. I was delighted to find out that in another life, I played the piano for a church recital. Iíve always wished I could play, and apparently, now I can.
Unfortunately, I also have to sell the family farm, and I must be sick again, because Iím on a church prayer list somewhere in Northern England. But most interestingly, I found that I support fat acceptance in the UK, which explains why I gain five pounds every time I pass a cookie.
My crisis wasnít as fulfilling as I thought it might be. It certainly wasnít as satisfying as a good tuna sandwich, though it was far easier than climbing a Tibetan mountain.
The new appliances in my kitchen will, no doubt, save me a little bit of time each day, but I think it is time that would be better spent in prayer than in crises. Rather than worry over things I have not control of, perhaps Iíll take my worry, set it, and forget it at the foot of the cross.
Who knows ... maybe then Iíll have the time to wait for that tuna sandwich.