The Goops and Lumpy Cream of Wheat

Sitting down to another Sunday morning breakfast on a snowy morning, with the fireplace glowing and cheesy holiday music playing in the background, I am reminded how I won the second chance lottery. 

"The cream of wheat is a little lumpy". Something about how you are supposed to prepare it a certain way.

In front of me is a bowl of cream of wheat. It looks fine to me. And a plate with a slice of homemade pumpkin bread, the kind with walnuts and raisins in it. And a couple of slices of bacon, the thick kind done extra crispy on the griddle. A glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee.

I let the comment about the lumpy cream of wheat pass. 

Grace, the beagle, is also enjoying her lottery prize. A scrambled egg in her dog food bowl, a Sunday morning ritual. When she sees the activity in the kitchen and hears the egg crack, she parks herself underfoot and gives the cook the "chop, chop" stare. Also known as waiting impatiently.

When I smear a dab of butter on my pumpkin bread and then decide it is too big to pick up with my hands, I go to reach for my fork when......where's the fork?  No problem, I'll just use my knife. I cut a slice of the bread and put the knife under it and lift it up and problem solved. "Yum, that is good pumpkin bread."

 I glance over at the cook and see I'm getting the look. The "Goop" look. Are you acquainted with the Goops? Let me introduce you to the Goops:

I was introduced to the Goops as a child through a nursery rhyme book read to me by my mother who then attempted to use the concept as a behavior modification technique. It didn't stick.

"You obviously didn't receive etiquette lessons, did you?" It more of a statement than a question. "You could go get a knife if you want one"

"No, this will work fine" 

 By now, Grace has picked all of the scrambled egg out of her bowl  and has moved under the table to beg for some people food. "Not going to happen, Grace. Not a chance". 

 Grace has not learned the concept of "always a gift, never an expectation". Breakfast this morning was a perfect example of the "always a gift, never an expectation" way of living. 

We live by rituals at our house.  On Sunday, mornings we read the paper, drink coffee, go for some exercise, and then the cook makes breakfast. I can bank on that just like the sun rises in the east. And I never know what will be served and I never ask.  I just show up.

In our nearly 17 years of marriage we have shared thousands of meal together. It's one of the things I love most about our life. The table is set with place mats, condiments are put in ramekins or bowls and a full set of silverware (fork, knife and spoon for you fellow Goops out there) is set properly on the table. Say nothing for the quality of the food that is prepared-it is excellent, I must say. 

Now you are starting to get that "lottery" reference if you like to dine as much as I do. Left to my own devices I would rarely use a place mat,  I might eat some things right out of the container or package, and my creativity in meal-planning is......simple might be overstating it.

 So when the cream of wheat was a little lumpy, big deal. And no fork, no problem. This isn't rocket science, as we used to say.  

I can't pinpoint exactly when, but I do know that I had a moment of clarity some time ago. I could see the things in my life such as having meals planned and prepared, clothes washed, holiday plans organized, and hundred other things-as an expectation or as a gift.

What's the difference? For me, the difference is huge. Lumpy cream of wheat...cop an attitude. No fork...act inconvenienced or put out. That's about expectations.

"Always a gift" means I show up at the table with a grateful heart and an empty stomach.

 "Always a gift" is a kind of grace that causes me to say "Oh well" instead of  "what the ...?!!" when things do go as expected.

See, I think it is OK to have expectations. But expectations that are gift-wrapped are better than expectations that come with a scorecard or tally sheet. And there are and will be times when things don't go as planned, when forks are left off the table, when the gravy is lumpy or perhaps when the one you love is simply human. Or when I am simply human.

Grace the beagle hasn't figured this out yet. But she's gets a pass because she's a beagle and her name is Grace. She gets to to be a beagle Goop.

I won the second chance lottery because I have breakfast prepared almost every Sunday morning, in spite of eating my pumpkin bread with a knife. 

I won the second chance lottery because the gifts I receive go way beyond breakfast and lumpy Cream of Wheat.

 I won the second chance lottery when I made a decision to embrace the concept of "always a gift, never an expectation"

Now excuse me, I see a bowl of pumpkin bread batter I need to stick my finger into. Once a Goop, always a Goop.