>> Friday, November 23, 2012
Pancakes, just like a lot of things in life, take patience. I have little to none, at least when it comes to waiting.
A few weeks ago I had visions of my Ma's perfect pancakes, along with the world's greatest syrup. (Blackburns). Saturday mornings were always extra special mornings when my mum would go into the kitchen, and whip up her magic. Like mashed potatoes, or potato salad (or anything potato-ish), pancakes are total comfort food.
Some of you may know, but my mom is a total cooker. It's no lie, she's cooked for me for years, but aside from that she's cooked for large groups of folks, including our church while growing up. As a result, she's always been insistent that I learn to be a cooker myself. So she taught me. Her methods are.... different? Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I've picked up the same ones. Would you like a recipe? I can provide one to you, however, it will not usually include exact measurements. For example, when making dumplings (even now), I'll ask,
"How much flour do I add?"
"Keep adding." (Note that she occasionally is in a different part of the room, or not even in the room.)
"But, you're not looking!"
"I just know. Keep adding." 20 seconds, or three scoops later, "Okay. That's good."
She's always right.
Back to the Wednesday night pancake craving, and it was 7 or so in the evening. I was determined to make them. I was in great haste. I was ready for the goodness that a pancake can deliver. I was pouring the batter onto the skillet (after making certain, of course, that the skillet was appropriately hot) and had served myself two warm and buttery pancakes, and was pouring the rest of the batter onto the skillet when I saw my error. (This particular "recipe" only makes 5 or so.) The egg, a vital part of a successful pancake, had only been mixed into half the batter, and the globs that fell out onto the skillet looked less than appealing.... and in reality it was. I was left in the end with flour on my face, all over my pants, and syrup on my arms (I've no idea how that happened) and two small pancakes.
The thing about patience is, you really are given good things when you wait. This is not the first time that I've ruined a batch of something, because my speediness prevented me from paying attention. I have also been blessed beyond the best thing my imagination could whip up because I waited.
Waiting is hard. Knowing what I want and sometimes what I need leaves me feeling frustrated and perhaps angry at times. I am a doer, and there are things that I want to do to get to where I want to be and have, and yet, there is no action step for me to take.... Yet, there is. As I learn the lessons God puts in front of me, and I learn to wait and to pray more, I move closer to tomorrow, where it just so happens, good things are waiting for me.
"Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow- that is patience."
And, I'll be honest. Good pancakes come to those who wait.
Now for that syrup.