By Janet K. Johnson
Piecrust on the ceiling? I stood there staring at the clumps of dough now clinging to the ceiling above me.
Having arrived there by accident, the clumps clung tightly out of place. They told the story of ingredients, stirred over and over, creating the perfect mashup of loss, tragedy, and loneliness.
The results had lived in a heart torn apart with grief. As the feelings and emotions of anger and loss gained traction, they were kneaded into the piecrust which flew upward from the bowl when I picked it up and slammed it down again.
They told me I had failed. Again. Failing was not usually an option for me, yet the piecrust clumps told a different story.
When Everything Falls Apart
Having heard the thumping of the metal pie pan against the marble countertop, my husband was soon in the kitchen. “Are you OK?” were the words I heard, but they prompted tears to flow like a late winter sleet on spring morning flowers.
While the tears might have given away my pain, it wasn’t until I pointed at the ceiling and the now-dented pie pan that my husband realized the situation would require carefully spoken words of encouragement. Was there anything he could say to make things less disastrous?
Through sobs sounding like hiccups with gasps for breath in-between, I tried to explain the anger and grief that had torn my heart into pieces like the clumps on the ceiling. Except I couldn’t. My rage over the piecrust that wasn’t working as it should was symbolic of what I felt inside. Those emotions clung onto my broken heart like the clumps gripping the ceiling.
A Shift in Perspective
What started out with an expectation of having a beautiful lemon meringue pie for dessert reminded me I was not like the pie I had anticipated. It told me I was a lemon; useful when squeezed, allowing what was special to me to be disguised by everything else around me.
Later, as I stood on the ladder, scraping off the clumps of pie dough, my viewpoint shifted. I began to see each one as a part of my journey. Some were big, some small. I could see bits of butter held together by the dough.
I began to realize my life held many stories, each one making me what I was. The grief, the disappointing moments, the times of failure were all there.
But so were the wonderful moments that filled the pages of my life—my children, friends, spouse, and years of finding joy in the most unexpected places.
Starting Over
The unfinished piecrust would be reformed with new ingredients to start over—just like I am determined to do with those things that had crushed my spirit. The clumps of the past were part of me but not all of me.
Walking forward I will face new challenges but now with the vantage point of the ceiling discovery. I can face them with more courage because I am confident I am not a victim. I am a special creation made with purpose. The clumps left tiny marks on the ceiling just like they did in my heart. But, with hard work and a new perspective, the days ahead looked much brighter.
Yes, lemons are a part of my life but so are sugar and all the moments I cherish as wonderful.
Janet K. Johnson is an award-winning author and speaker who helps others grieve well as they discover tools to live out their losses in life-giving ways. She is a joy-sprinkling lover of Jesus.
