I Don't Make Guacamole

I do not make guacamole. I don't have some famous recipe passed down from generation to generation of Soltero homemakers. I love the delicious green paste as much as the next person, however, I have never made it...

Well, I guess one time I did. One time when my sweet father-in-law with the best of intentions tried to make me feel more "at home" by supplying the ingredients for me to whip up some delicious combination of avocado, cilantro, onion, and lime. It was disastrous, a horrible consistency of pale green mush that lacked flavor and and substance. It was runny and gross. Everyone pretended to like it, but I knew it wasn't good.  

I don't make guacamole. I don't do so, not because I am incapable, as I am sure I could Google some great recipe and run to the store for the ingredients. I could work at it unit it was perfected and proudly announce to all my guests that it I was serving my world famous "GUAC" (as my Midwestern guests would call it). But I don't. People love guacamole. Americans eat 53.3 million pounds of the stuff on Super Bowl Sunday! That is enough guacamole to coat a football field 20 feet deep. Gross. But I don't make it. 

Why? I have been asking myself that question for the last year. Maybe because people expect me to. The assumption that a Mexican homemaker who has mastered the art of beans, rice, and chile con carne should probably know how to make guacamole. But I refuse to do so, because I don't like the indication that I SHOULD do something. 

I have been battling the idea of others expectations for the past few weeks. The kick off to our summer has been overwhelmingly busy, having already shoved a wedding, two out of state graduations, a few barbeques, and house guests into the first few weeks. We are tired and our laundry could honestly revolt on us and take over our house in the next few days. We have loved every minute of it, but sometimes I wonder if we fail to say NO to something because of other's expectations of us. 

I was talking to a sweet friend on my drive home the other day. I had been thinking about her for a few days, but managed to hit the pillow every night failing to call her. I finally did so and we chatted for a bit. She confided in me with her feelings of inadequacy and wondering when life would change for her. I know that those feelings are by no means unique to her.  We all struggle with them, but the pain was very real and fresh as she reflected on her lack of relationship status in comparison to the Memorial holiday. I felt for her. I know the chagrin of being asked "if there was anyone special". Usually I would quote Miranda from Sex and the City and say that, "No, indeed there were just loads and loads of really average and not special guys".  My witty response usually deflected some of the kind, but unnecessary pitiful responses that well meaning friends would say, like "he is right around the corner" or "just when you stop looking..." as if I could ever STOP looking. But the pain was always there, just below the surface.

I wonder however, how much of our feelings of inadequacy and overall lack of luster for the place we are in life stems from letting other people define our lives. My friend is a strong independent woman. She works hard, establishing herself in a career she loves and is invested in. She changes lives on a daily basis always putting others interests above her own. She is an active member of her church and she is always there for her friends and family. Oh, and she is deliriously beautiful, on the inside and the outside. I am certainly not saying that her desire to share her life with someone special is wrong or even out of place. However, I wonder how much of what she is feeling (and me for that matter) has more to do with looking around and wanting what others have as opposed to being content with where God has her. I also wonder how much of what we do is impacted by what we view as the next step...

How often do we allow others to impact what we do and how we do it? I know that for myself, if I am truthful, it is a daily struggle. I have been asking myself a lot lately if I am pursuing something God wants for me or if my desires are shaped by others' expectations of me. I am working on letting God define me, and not others. I am constantly checking my motives. I want to be molded and shaped into a woman after God's own heart. 

So, for now, despite being given a mortar and pestle for Christmas this past year, I don't make guacamole. 

What is your guacamole?