With Love ...

Mum told me to prepare the chapattis (Indian bread) again for dinner. I don’t really like doing that; it means standing till the last chapatti is done, exercising your hands vigorously, and in summers sweating as though you’re in the shower (though it’s winters now, but that doesn’t make it any better).

As I started to do it, I found some chapattis in the breadbox probably left over from the afternoon meal. There was also some parantha (deep fried chapatti) wrapped in a foil. I asked her about these and she told me to take out the chapattis and keep the parantha. I asked her if she wanted to have it, but she declined saying it was too late for having a parantha (at dinner, as it was deep fried). My interest in that question was that if she was going to have the parantha, then it means I would have to make a couple of chapattis less (yes, that’s mean!).

I muttered to myself, ‘She don’t want to throw it; she don’t want to eat it. She just wants to keep it because it looks bad throwing away food.’

Well, I started to prepare the chapattis (brace yourselves for more mean attitude from me) and mentally calculating how many I’d have to make. It turned out I’d have to do eight. Well, I won’t do eight. I’d do seven, because I’m supposed to do eight just in case someone wants more or someone comes in unexpected.

Jesus decided to speak to me. “What’s one more chapatti to you?”

I did not reply. (Oh! The impertinence!)

Then, I spoke and the volume of my voice was higher than usual, “Why do You have to be so kind to me? Then, it forces me to be kind to others.”

He replied, “That’s the idea!” (Oh yes! He was having fun!)

I thought to myself (fully aware that He can hear my thoughts), ‘Yeah, that’s the idea. What do You mean that’s the idea!?’ I smiled.

As I made the 6th one, and proceeded to the dough for the next, He said, “Now, lovingly make the 7th chapatti.”

Immediately, my demeanor changed (don’t ask me how; I don’t know). I lovingly pulled out the dough for the 7th chapatti, rolled it into a nice ball, dusted it with flour and flattened it into a perfect circle.

“Now,” He said, “Wasn’t that better?” I smiled.

As I put the chapatti on the tawa (hot plate), I sang, “Fa la la la la la la la la….”

“Yes,” He said, “That’s a good song to sing in this situation. Yeah! You doing something you don’t want to do, still you’re doing it lovingly, and enjoying it; it’s like a slap in the devil’s face.”

I stopped to count the chapattis as the 7th one was done, and I realized that I had only seven. I was about to sigh my frustration.

“Now, lovingly make the 8th chapatti.” I heard Him say, before I could sigh.

Yes, I obeyed. I lovingly made the 8th one too.

I told Mum that it was done, and she told me to eat. I initially thought I wouldn’t just then, but a few minutes later I was taking some for me. When I went to the breadbox, I started to pick out the top-two chapattis. I remembered that these were the ones that I did lovingly. I left them for my parents to eat and took the two out from the bottom of the pile. Father God blessed my food, ofcourse!

As He says in His word - Whatever you do, do in love.