What I learned from a RAT!

My daughter is home today from an injury after accidentally stabbing herself with a pencil yesterday which broke off inside her hand. No worries, she is okay, just nursing her wound with a little help from me.

I am home today nursing other wounds.
Wounds that are internal

and which wounds I normally try to hide.

In the course of me nurturing her, she nurtures me today.

I asked her today if I am all the mother that she could want. I wanted an honest answer. I have been picking myself apart my whole life, why not let someone else do it for a change.

She was honest with me, thankfully, and didn't give me the Sunday School answers that I am perfectly perfect in every way and that she could not want for a better mother.

No, she told me the truth, how she really feels, and I am better for it.


She was watching Ratatouille.



Armed with half a Bacon Cheeseburger each and Sweet Potato fries we watched the final moments of the movie, and pondering her sweet answer I listened to the food critics response to the meal he had been served by the RAT:

~ In many ways, the work of a critic is easy.
We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment.

We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read.
But the bitter truth we critics must face is that,
in the grand scheme of things,
the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.

But there are times when a critic truly risks something,
and that is in the discovery and defense of the new.

The world is often unkind to new talents — new creations.

The new needs friends.

Last night,
I experienced something new,
an extraordinary meal from
a singularly unexpected source.

To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement.

They have rocked me to my core.

In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook.

But I realize only now do I truly understand what he meant.
Not everyone can become a great artist,
but a great artist can come from anywhere.

It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion,
nothing less than the finest chef in France.

I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.~

I have offer up my work and myself to her judgment. I opened myself up in this way because who can be a better critic than one who is at the core of my work.

My darling daughter, a daughter who I hope will grow up to blossom all the love and light and talent that she has been blessed to have.

A daughter who I hope will take all she has seen in me and learned from me and make more.

Who I hope through her life's experiences will come to forgive me for my shortcomings and who will forgive herself when she experiences them too.


Now hearing this next piece made me smile: the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so... May I be lucky to be such an average piece of junk in someones world, and may I do all that I am meant to in my own.



The exciting part comes next....a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new ahhhh, the discovery....

The world is so unkind, and we can often find the extraordinary in the unexpected.

It is always in the things that I least want to happen that I have the most blessings.

It is never fun to hear that you are not coming across the way that your heart believes you are. That others don't see you the way that you think they will. The mistakes of misunderstanding. We all suffer this. There is no possible way another person can know the true intent of my heart, because what ever they are experiencing, where ever they are coming from they will see me with their own tainted view.

Discovery and defense....Even as I discover myself I find that others are discovering an entirely different person than I believe myself to be. The natural defense is to weep, to mourn or grieve the criticism. But...

To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement.

...what if, ...what if we really tried to see one another for the person they are within??? what if we offered to see them in their refinement....

What if we challenge our preconceptions.....Our Maker has such a divine and individual plan for every one of us. He makes no mistakes. You, me, everyone you meet.

Hard concept to grasp, but yes, He makes no mistakes.

I think of this and wonder....my judgement of others makes me question this truth, and when I question it I become a harsher judge of myself.

[arggghhhh... the thoughts....I think right now I have a bit too much salt in my meal, and the only solution is to cry it out...]


and then...

I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.

It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France

We are no less than perfectly refined by our humble origins....we are made into the finest and find that OUR PERSONAL greatness comes from out of the junk.

So, for me today....in my own personal junkyard, I am discovering something wonderful about me. I am letting down my defense, and allowing my imagination to wander. What will I become??? Who knows, but I am sure it will be nothing less than the finest!!!