Bread and Wine: Brannon's Caesar Salad

I wrote yesterday that the word "basic" had been on my mind, and it seemed to fit with the recipe.

When I sat down now to write, my word was "dedication." This chapter is about it, I've been struggling with it in big and small ways (this blog project, for example), and after a half-hour talk with my best friend, I realize it's something at the core of parenthood, and yet it does not come easily.

By way of dedication, I'll also mention that everything in me fought against cooking and writing tonight (to give you an idea of what kind of day it was over here, I ate three Gaia cookies and half a box of cheap milk chocolate covered caramels from the #Valentines stash for lunch juuust to help me get through the day). But, incredibly, here I am, ready to write and talk about salad and dedication and parenthood.

Come on, let's eat.

The Recipe: Brannon's Caesar Salad
Ingredients: Romaine lettuce, parmesan cheese, garlic, white vinegar, olive oil, Dijon, Tabasco, lemon juice, sugar, bread slices (for croutons)

As I mentioned above, pretty much everything in my eating today rebelled against salad. I woke up beyond tired, the kids were in post-illness cranky wiredness, and it was the first sunny day in a week in Middle Tennessee. Our gears were in a funk and we couldn't find a rhythm. Luckily a late afternoon trip to the park saved the day and our dispositions. But I wasn't sure about tonight's salad.

I ended up chatting with my best friend for the first time in a while as I drove us home from the park, and the conversation wound from the husbands and kids to motherhood.

"I'm not sure anyone really told me that it's not only a full-time job, it's THREE full time jobs," I said. "People leave that part out."

I don't have to tell her. She's trying to get to law school while working full-time, helping her son with learning disabilities, and helping her husband transition from the military.

She's had a new setback that will delay grad school...again. And it hurts.

We talk about how this isn't a deviation from her journey, but part of it. We talk about her mom guilty, and how parenthood isn't done one way; good parenting is just doing it and being there even when it's tough.

My son gets fussy and needs attention. Her husband finished making dinner, so we say good-byes and talk soons, and get off the phone.

I got my son a snack, and I think about dedication and my friend. I pull up my big girl panties and I make salad, because dedication.

The salad is easier than I remember reading. I can even make most of it with my son on my hip, putting him down when it's time to chop the lettuce. I can't find the Tabasco bottle, so I add a little extra pepper to the dressing mix and shake it up. It's a vinaigrette with Caesar overtones. It's delicious. My husband and I start eating it before the burgers are finished.

I made the croutons with my mother's homemade bread--a sourdough-type from the aged pages of The Joy of Cooking. It's a perfect table bread for butter, but ended up being a little too sweet and chewy for a true crunchy crouton. Never mind though, it baked up pretty and I thought of my mom and the hundreds of hours I spent making that bread with her growing up.

I chop the lettuce (a little too finely, I should have remembered to just tear the leaves) and pour on the dressing and toss it together. I put it on plates next to our simple burgers and top it with croutons. My husband, not normally a salad eater, enthusiastically helped me polish off all that I had made.

Dedication certainly pays off.

The Chapter: Better Late Than Never

I have to admit, this chapter made me a little itchy when I came to it. I'm pretty sure because it poked something inside of me I'd prefer to let sleep. So that means it's a good thing, but still, I was itchy.

Shauna writes about finally making her way to doing a baby dedication for her sons (the above salad was served at the lunch reception)...and that's it. It's about her making time for it, even though the boys are far older than when most parents do theirs. Thanks to the help of a mother friend, she makes time.

Better late than never, she says.

It seems a little cavalier.

I associate "Better late than never," with a kind of carelessness. A little, "Oh well, it still counts, doesn't it?" type of attitude, which I associate with unimportance, a shrug.

Seems a little strange to do this with the spiritual dedication of one's children, does it not?

Maybe. So I judged, and planned to make salad.

And yet, I itch. I am poked. Why?

Because I resonate with Shauna. I too, put off important things for far too long. I too am all too willing to be busily overscheduled rather than to sit and take time, make time, for what is actually important to my heart and my spirit.

If I am honest, my "better late than never" is more often "never."

I'll follow a play on words here. Shauna says she is late for her son's dedications. I say I am often late, to a no-show on dedication for many important things in my life. Follow-yhrough is expensive; costly. It actually demands I put aside some things in order to afford what is actually important to me. And I struggle with that, whether it's family, or writing, or yes, my spiritual life, sometimes making these things a top priority feels too hard, too expensive when I'd rather have interesting  things divert me and merely make me feel important.

Dedication. Sometimes difficult, and yet always good, orienting, stabilizing, bringing focus.

And of course this is the stuff of writing-- doing it, even it doesn't feel great.

It is the substance of parenthood-- a commitment to love and help our children, even when it is difficult and irritating and frustrating.

And of course a spiritual dedication is a commitment of one's children to God, their creator, for their physical and spiritual safekeeping.

And I felt I should ask myself, why haven't you had MORE dedications? I can think of more than just my children that I need to dedicate to God's keeping.

And I think maybe that's the best realization of all--that my dedication needs to be sourced from something higher than myself. My words, my children, my work and all my efforts are frail at best in my own resolve. But when I bring these things to God, to be dedicated to Him, I find strength I didn't know was possible.

Better late than never, yes! it's true. But maybe I can learn to dedicate myself to the things I value most... a little sooner.