I finally broke down and bought an immersion blender. Well, actually not just an immersion blender - but the entire Kitchen Aid immersion blender set - including chopper, wire whip and a measuring cup with lid along with a handy-dandy cotton sack in which to store the entire set!
Here is the main reason I gave in and spent the $99 with Chef's Catalog this winter. I can hear her now, "Chris, you just scoop it into the blender and you puree everything one batch at a time until you are all done. Making soup this way is perfect every time!" My well-meaning mother in her attempt to instruct me in the process of pureeing vegetables for creamy vegetable soup left out one important detail - waiting for the soup to cool before pulverizing it!
She should have known that waiting would be the one step I would need to see in bold, italics, and underlined print! I am an impatient person who spills over into my personae in the kitchen. However, because she did not take into consideration the fact that I did not have the patience to wait for the vegetables to cool before I pulverized them into a soupy concoction - after numerous occasions of blender burns and boiling half-pureed vegetables hitting the wall, counter and floor - I empowered myself with a tool of my own choosing. Enter the Immersion Blender!
I chose the flaming-red model. My plan included blending all the vegetables right where they lay - - soft and steaming hot in my turkey-sized slow cooker. Ahhhh - immersion bliss! I plugged in the tool the very first time and enjoyed instant success. I even added nonfat milk to the still-steaming, pureed fare - - with complete abandon may I add! I enjoyed my epicurean delight for days.
As I dove into a medley of boiling hot, soft veggies in my slow cooker this evening, I could not help but wonder - How often am I "burned" by my involvement in situations in which God had not yet prepared me to tackle? I mean, I was burned when I impatiently dove into my first vegetable pureeing project with the traditional blender. Had I let things "cool" awhile possibly my soup would have turned out perfectly, not just that time but every time thereafter, just like my Mom's had.
See, my Mom gave me the directions. But I had never questioned her when to blend the vegetables into a puree fit for a creamy veggie soup. Tonight, as I stood at my counter with my flaming-red immersion blender in hand I could not help but ponder this question, "How often do I ask God for direction in a particular matter and instead of waiting for Him to define a time frame, instead blindly plow ahead?" Unlike my soup success this nite, I have often made a hot mess of a situation that could have instead been a calm, cool, collected adventure for God - all because I did not wait on God for direction.
My Mom has wisdom. Not just in cooking, but in waiting. She waited a long time for me to realize she had wisdom! My mom has taught me many kitchen tricks. Making soup in the tried-and-true blender was just one trick she had shared with me over the years. The old-fashioned blender had always worked for her - not just once - but each and every time she plugged it in and blended. Not for me. I wanted to be "immersed" in my project, waiting for no one.
Yes, the immersion blender worked for what it was intended to do. But did I even need it in the first place? What if I had instead asked the Lord to teach me the art of waiting?
Yes, I enjoyed the convenience of my immersion blender tonight. My soup is now cooling. I do not have to clean a traditional blender and all its parts. The flaming red immersion attachment pops right off and can be rinsed right under the faucet - doesn't even need soap! The handy-dandy cotton sack awaits it. But really - did I have to have it? I don't think so. The immersion blender I believe will always be a reminder to me to wait on God for direction - even if I can proceed - to wait on Him because often the time spent waiting or the "cooling period" is often the period in which wisdom is born.
This wisdom my mom possesses as she puts her old-fashioned blender away after every successful soup endeavor. She secretly smiles because she knows she does not need one more kitchen appliance - even if it does come with a handy-dandy cotton sack and a flashy red facade!