I love to cook and try new recipes. A while back I was really into making frittatas. If you don’t know what a frittata is, it’s kind of like scrambled eggs, but fancy. One evening, I was making this frittata form a recipe. I started cooking it on the stove in a metal skillet that had a metal handle and then, using a potholder, I stuck the whole thing in the oven to let it finish cooking, per the directions in the recipe.
Everything was coming along nicely, but all that fancy chef work had worn me out a bit, so I decided to lay down on my bed to look at Facebook and Instagram on my phone. Several minutes went by and the oven timer went off, I grabbed a pot holder and pulled my beautiful frittata out of the oven and set it on top of the stove to cool.
This frittata looked amazing. So, naturally, I was feeling like a Food Network TV star.
I was already thinking about the best way for me to capture a picture of this culinary masterpiece with my phone for Instagram. I’m sure I was musing to myself, “should I use a filter for my frittata? Should I frittata hashtag no filter?”
I decided I should probably move my beautiful frittata from the stove, over to the kitchen island. The light was better there and would be more flattering for my frittata pic. Apparently, wholy distracted by my thoughts, I reached down, bare handed, no pot-holder, and grabbed the hot metal skillet handle. I burned the crap out of my hand. I rushed over to the sink and ran my hand under cold tap water. The burn was starting to look pretty bad…then the pain set in. For the next couple hours, I experienced the worst pain of my life…and I’ve given birth…twice. I was in tears. My husband, Jeff, was kind of freaking out, but being trying to be calm and comforting. I called a doctor and determined that I didn’t need to go to the hospital. The doc called in a prescription for me and my housemate, Amanda, graciously agreed to go pick it up for me at the pharmacy. I got in my bed and just laid there and cried until Amanda came back with my prescription, some painkillers, and some bandages for my hand.
With the pain under control, the shame and embarrassment of what I did started to settle in.
How could I be so stupid? What was I thinking? I knew better than that, to grab a hot pan with my bare hands, but I did it anyway. Apparently, I can trust my mind enough to follow a recipe and produce an amazing frittata, but I can’t trust it to keep me from burning the crap out of my hand for no reason?
Do you ever feel like your mind is a little out of control? I mean, not like crazy, but do your thoughts ever seem get away from you a bit? Ever been on the wrong end of a misunderstanding? Our minds are more mysterious to us than we like to admit. How can we know whether we’re thinking about the world, ourselves and others in good, holy and life-giving ways?