I'm Dreaming of a White Kitchen

The world may currently be sparkly white outside, but the first snow of the season actually took place in my kitchen.

Therefore, one of the Christmas gifts I received this year came more from a place of necessity than desire. You see, a new container to hold one’s all-purpose flour in one’s pantry is a needed item when one drops the container while baking Christmas goodies. 

“Drop” isn’t really the word to use here. No, “toss” is a more accurate verb, for the direction of travel was not a simple vertical route. It made several unpleasant stops on the way to its final destination. After it left my hands it hit the mixer, the baking cart that the mixer sits on, and a nearby counter, before eventually landing on the floor. And I should probably also point out that it was not traveling light. The container was full of 5 pounds of recently purchased flour. 

Therefore, all mentioned surfaces were clearly marked by the destructive path, resembling a snowy scene from White Christmas. This also included the face and clothes of the one who set the blizzard in motion. Was that a pale, white face of flour or of shock? 

Yes. The answer is yes. 

For several seconds, all was silent and motionless. Not a creature was stirring, not even three innocent bystanders. All eyes surveyed the winter wonderland, before resting on the lid-less container with a shattered side that mirrored my shattered baking spirit. 

Eventually, nearby father-and-son laughter broke the silence. Bing Cosby and Danny Kaye took center stage with brooms and dustpans in hand.

Then came the unexpected consolations from a daughter. 

“It’s okay, Mama. It’s all going to be okay.”

As I returned her hug in the middle of that kitchen storm aftermath, I felt a pang of regret. While painstakingly cleaning nooks, crannies, and grout lines, a scene from earlier that day replayed in my mind. 

That same daughter had accidentally dropped something I had asked her to carefully carry, not causing near the destruction my drop had caused. But my reaction was not quite the same as hers.

It’s funny how flour can have such a widespread impact. The tiny particles float effortlessly through the air, settling into places like the carpet in the next room or the black curly fur of the mountain dog. And like sand in a car after a day at the beach, the removal process is almost just as elusive. 

What if grace and mercy were to permeate in the same way? 

Like flour from a broken canister.

White as snow. 

Though our words and actions may be scarlet, though our thoughts and reactions be crimson; they shall be made white as fine, fresh flour.

Because, in the end, everything really is going to be okay.

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