What Mac & Cheese Taught Me About God

I have had a lifelong, love relationship with macaroni & cheese.  I can't claim to remember my first bite, but I'm sure if footage of that moment existed, there would have been a look of bliss on a toddler's face.  I grew up on my mom's mac & cheese.  She makes it from scratch in the 9x12 CorningWare/Pyrex dish baked in the oven.  It is heavenly.  When I was about five or six we spent some of our summer days at a neighbor's house playing with her kids while my mom worked.  She made her mac & cheese from this mysterious blue box from a magical land called Kraft.  The noodles were smaller and the cheese was more of a sauce than, actual melted cheese, yet I loved it.  In fact, there are rumors that I went home and asked if we could have this mac & cheese from Kraft instead of the homemade kind.  I can neither confirm nor deny these rumors, but if you ask my mother she likely will tell you. What I can tell you, is that we never did have it at home.  It wasn't until my college years that I went back to the old faithful blue box of Kraft.  I remember on one particular occasion, being broke and buying the store brand.  FAIL.  That only happened once.  Brand loyalty was serious when it came to the sacred mac & cheese, so I stuck to what I knew was best. Once I hit my thirties, it seemed only right to start being a "grown-up" and  making my mom's recipe.  My inclination for processed foods still had me occasionally indulging in the Kraft powder-butter-milk combo, but only for late night snacks and quick lunches.  My friend Regina makes a mean mac & cheese that I fell for in recent years, and once I got the recipe and learned it included the use of Velveeta, I understood why it was so good to me albeit not so good for me.  When, I got married and began making it for my husband and myself, I found myself going back and forth between mom's recipe and Regina's, sometimes using a hybrid of both.   

However, recently I've been eating a bit differently and trying to avoid anything processed, excessive use of dairy, and too much gluten to name a few things.  That made mac & cheese a difficult thing to indulge in since in both of my recipe options it included dairy or gluten or processed stuff if not all three. That means I've had to go without one of my favs for several weeks.  This week, I found myself determined to come up with the best possible option that I could and was delighted to find a vegan/gluten-free recipe for mac & cheese.  I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out, but when all was said and done, I had a pretty delicious bowl of vegan cheese substitute and gluten-free noodles.  It may sound wrong, but it tasted right. I ate every bite in my bowl and had a satisfied smile on my face when I was done. 

And that is when it hit me.  Mac & Cheese was a great metaphor for the desires of my heart.  I have always desired a few specific things for my life.  As a child, my parents made sure that I got the best foundation for those things in the best possible ways, just like mom's homemade mac & cheese.  She made it from scratch with real ingredients so that I could have the best.  I didn't know that the cheese or milk in it was better for me than what came in the processed Kraft box, I just knew it was good.  The choices my parents guided me to make, the things they exposed me to, and the desires they encouraged were things that were better for me and for my spiritual and mental health.  In my college years, just as I went for the processed, easier version of what mom had served in the bowl, I went for the slick, easier version of the desires of my heart.  I allowed convenience to sway how I went after my desires.  At the core, I still wanted the some of the same, good things, I just thought I'd found an easier way to get them.  As I matured, I recognized the value of the homemade dish my mom used to serve and started to make it for myself.  In that same way, I recognized the value of the faith my parents had lived out and began to seek it out for myself, making my own choices to pursue the right things in the right ways.  At times along the way, I tried to merge my own way to acquire my desires for myself with God's way, just as I tried to throw a little Velveeta into mom's classic recipe.  And now, I've come to a place in life where I have to give up my love of junk food and all things processed and prioritize a  greater good in my life.  So, I have surrendered.  I have surrendered my preferences, for the better choices.  I have surrendered my will, my timetable, and my way, for God's will, God's timing, and God's way,...

...and in surrendering, I have found that God will still allow me to experience satisfaction.  He still gives me joy.  He still wants me to have pleasure and happiness in this life.  It may not be playing out exactly as I want it to play out, but the knowledge that things are happening according to His will brings me great comfort.  It adds patience to an impatient heart.  It allows for smiles to outnumber tears.  And it brings me peace, supernatural, unexplainable, peace. A peace I had read about in Scripture many times, but never truly experienced until now, as I live with a hope deferred. 

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

This is not the post I thought I would be writing this week.  If you had asked me just a week ago, as I continue to pray for a desire of my heart that may not be God's will for my life, I would have said no.  Somehow, in the midst of the prayers, reading the Psalms (where I have stayed focused in this season) and God's perfect timing, I have landed here.  I am content as I eat my new mac & cheese, thank God for what He has already done, and trust Him with my future.