A Prosy Ode to an Onion
The first papery layer crackles as I crinkle the dry brown skin and it falls away from the moist, white bulb. Carefully, keeping my fingers clear of the blade, I make the first cut. Slices spurt stinging juices into my eyes. A few tears fall, and then a sob escapes from my tense, suppressed body. A full flood of pent-up fear, pain and disappointment over flow the dam that has successfully held back the emotions until now.
I smile as I recognize the gift this onion has given to me. It has given me privacy to release my pain. No one asks me why I am crying; I am slicing onions. This is an intimate moment between me and my God. How pleasant it is to be in the place where God dwells!* The releases of stress through tears, His calming Spirit, and His gift of onions are all good. No judgment, just understanding. No advice, just acceptance. “I know,” He says, “You are mine and it’ll be okay.”
I mechanically sprinkle flour, salt, pepper and cheese over the sliced potatoes and onions, and my mind is free to think clearly. Oh how I have been distorting the magnitude of the disappointment! I remember my Dad saying, “Don’t make mountains out of molehills,” and I rest in the fact that, with God’s help, I do my best to make good decisions. Also, if it turns out to be a bad one, God will show me the way through. I trust Him and I leave it in His good hands.
The slices of onion lying in the pan declare to me that the onion grows and lives one layer at a time. The tiny seed gave no thought of being a plump, round juicy vegetable. I, too, must remember to live my life one day at a time, make good decisions one a time, look to a good future, and build my life one layer at a time until I am ripe for harvest.
Meanwhile, I am grateful to the onion which brought me into the place where God dwells.
*See Psalm 84:1
