She emailed me asking me to keep writing about the toaster. Please. Who knew there was so much theology in an appliance! While I wasn’t opposed to writing about toasters, nothing was coming. There is only so much one toaster can say and if I tried to force a third toaster piece… that is what it would be. Forced. Artificial. So as fun at it would be to write a trilogy, it wasn’t to be. I moved on.
That night I met up with friends to attend a concert. With only an hour before it started, we needed to find some dinner. These two friends are major meat eaters so the vegan restaurant we saw was out before it was ever in. We also opted not to eat at the cat café (I’m not actually sure the name, but there were several cat posters outside and when we opened the door there were at least five cats wandering around or napping). We went into another coffee shop and asked if they had food. The answer: pizza.
Good enough! On the menu they actually had pizza and curry over rice; we went with two nine inch pizzas. As we waited, who should hop up but a friendly black cat! I kid you not. At least there wouldn’t be any mice or rats around and as health codes go, I’d opt for cat fur over rats any day.
There was a distant “ding” that only registered later.
Out came a pizza and we pounced on it, being hungry and mildly time sensitive. Chattering away, the pizza disappeared and the second one failed to arrive.
Staring at the empty plate we wondered what was taking so long. Where was our pizza? A ding was heard in the distance.
“Was that a toaster oven?” we asked, incredulous. It was. The café only had one toaster oven, requiring that each pizza be baked separately and arrive a good fifteen minutes apart. This is not a business plan I would have come up with.
Peter heard the rooster crow after denying Christ three times. And then he got what was really going on. What he had done. How much he had blown it. Like Peter, sometimes I’m slow to get it. I didn’t truly hear the ding until the second pizza was done. I had been fussing and fidgeting internally, wondering where the high-ho our food was. What. Was. Taking. So. Long? Ding.
That ding clued me into the reality that there was only one toaster oven, not the several I had assumed. God, once again, used a toaster as a teacher. Peter assumed he’d never deny Christ, but then that rooster crow revealed his own heart to him. In that ding I heard more than that a mere pizza was done. How many times do my assumptions rob me of the joy of the moment? Ding. How often do I miss what is happening (in this case a chance to connect with friends) because I am so focused on what is NOT happening (the pizza arriving)? Ding.
With that, God smiled and said, “I think that’s enough lessons this week from one appliance, let’s move on. I can’t wait for you to learn from your blender!”