Fitting the Mold

Molds are something that I learned about a long time ago.  So long ago that it almost seems like it was a dream.  I was taught about molds by my mother, in many different ways actually.  I was told that they were used to make pottery and ceramics.  The ceramic is poured into a mold that is made up of two pieces and then fired in a kiln to produce a very fragile, unfinished peace of pottery.  It almost feels like clay.  The piece of pottery still has to be "cleaned" because it has a line where the mold was pushed together.  Thats the thing, the mold doesn't make a perfect piece of pottery.  It still has to be fixed or cleaned in this case, and then it has to go through fire (or an extremely hot kiln).

I started thinking about this last night, after I finished venting to a friend.  I do not know a single person that feels they don't fit into "the mold" even though they are forced to try to fit into it every single day.  And boy do we try to fit into it.  I've colored my hair, I've tried different skin care products and makeup, I've tried not eating, and throwing up, I've cheated, I've stolen, I've lied, I've done EVERYTHING I can to fit into this "mold," to try to come off as the perfect person.  This person that is beautiful, smart, athletic, skinny, funny, liked by all.  This impossible, unachievable person.  Even if there is a person that fits into this mold, they are still imperfect, because molds are imperfect.  After venting to this friend he told me that he too had the same problem.  That he tried to be everything his parents wanted him to be, that he tried to fit into the impossible mold.  That he tried to be smarter, more sociable, and a better christian.  That he was trying to be the perfect person for everybody.  So heres the thing, lets say I finally figured out how to "fit the mold", I would still have have to be cleaned, the extra scraped off, and then from there I would have to walk through fire.  It's impossible.

However, the most beautiful, expensive, are rare pieces of pottery don't come from a mold.  But they are hand crafted individually, and they are made perfectly.  So my question is, who even created this mold?  Who says we have to practically kill ourselves to be something?  I guess the real question is why do we care so much?  We are fearfully and wonderfully made.  Sculpted by the greatest Artist who paints the sky every morning and night, that inspires all of the other artists.  We are unique and have such great worth in the eyes of God.  We are molded by the greatest Sculptor, who sculpted the mountains and the valleys.  We are beautiful.  And we need no mold.


Lime Chicken Tacos

We tried this for dinner tonight and it was so delicious!  It was a great alternate to the normal mundane tacos we usually eat.  Give it a try! 

1 ½ lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts (cut into small pieces)
1/8 cup red wine vinegar
½ lime (juiced)
1 teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
2 green onions (chopped)
2 garlic cloves (minced)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
10 (6 inch) flour tortillas
1 tomato (diced)
¼ cup shredded lettuce
¼ cup Monterey jack cheese
¼ cup salsa
Sour cream (optional)

Step 1: Add a little oil to the pan and sauté chicken pieces in the pan for 20 minutes over medium-high heat. Add vinegar, lime juice, sugar, salt, pepper, green onions, garlic and oregano. Simmer for another 10 minutes.
Step 2: Warm tortillas and add chicken mixture to each one evenly. Top with cheese, tomato, lettuce and salsa.
(Makes 4 servings)
credit: http://blogchef.net/lime-chicken-tacos-recipe/

Still Believe.

When did we lose hope of marrying our prince charming?  At what point did we decide that it was an unrealistic dream?  Whose words made us believe that we weren't truly princesses worthy of a prince.  Why have we stopped believing that we need rescuing from  the terrible dragon?  These were the questions I asked myself today as my 4 year cousin ran through a park screaming, saying that the dragon was going to get her and she needed to be rescued by her prince charming.  These were the questions that I faced as she ran up to me and said that the prince had saved her life and they were going to get married and live happily ever after - A child's dream.  So when did we lose sight of this fairytale?  Perhaps it was when the king, our father, left us, when our parents got a divorce.  Or maybe it was when we had our heart broken for the very first time.  Or by chance, it was when someone told we were fat, ugly, and absolutely nothing special at all.  Or it could have been when the man we thought we were going to marry was actually cheating on us.  Or perhaps it is now when we are 35 years old and have no hope of a happily ever after left.  Who really knows when we lost sight of this dream.  But the point it, we have forgotten it, left it behind as though we are too old for it.  However, the longing is still there, right?  The need to be loved by someone who will never leave, but will stand by our side for the rest of our lives, fighting our dragons.  The need to be rescued from these so called dragons.  What a beautiful longing it is.  A beautiful longing placed in us by none other than the King.  And this longing is fulfilled through Christ returning and fighting the dragon, and taking up His bride - the church.  It is also fulfilled through God's gift of marriage.  A beautiful and holy gift that we have so botched up.  We have made such a sacred act of worship into something so desecrated.  It has become nothing but empty promises and broken hearts.  However, I still believe.  I still believe in those happily ever afters.  You can see it in spouses fighting for a lasting marriage.  You can see it in couples celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, still as happy and in love as the day they were wed.  You can see it in the 80 year old husband helping his wife plant her flowers, the twinkle in his eye as he playfully throws a clump of dirt at her.  It is still there.  The fairytale still exists.  So here I stand, waiting.  Not giving into what seems easy or convenient, but waiting for my prince charming.  Not kissing toads hoping they will turn into a prince, but instead knowing that he will come wether it is riding up on his white stead, or walking through the door into the caf.  Who knows?  All I know, is I'm not giving in.  Maybe its foolishness, but I still choose to believe in fairytales.