As you may know from my wife, I like to cook. Not just open-the-box-and-pour-out-the-hamburger-helper cooking, but hey-this-recipe-has-47-ingredients-that-must-be-prepared-in-exact-order, in-the-light-of-a-full-moon, while-chanting-kum-by-ya cooking. This has accounted for some good dishes and some very, very bad ones. When I’m making something that doesn’t require a masters in the culinary arts, I do pretty well. I’ve even managed to re-create some Emeril recipes and not had them flop. However, once in a while I over-step my bounds.

Some time ago, we went with friends to a local Thai restaurant. I fell in love with Pad Thai. Being that we have not been back, and I have been craving the stuff, I attempted to make Pad Thai a few days ago. I say attempted, because my poor wife ran from the house in terror, dogs in the neighborhood were barking at the smell and even my brother wouldn’t eat it (he said something about not feeling well, but I’m not sure that wasn’t till after I started cooking). Although it was edible (I can eat anything), I can not honorably call my creation Pad Thai. I followed the instructions to the letter, which is not something I do every time. What I ended up with looked more like over-cooked shrimp in brown noodles with little bits of yellow (egg) floating around. In short, a failed plan.

I have discovered through trial and error (much error) that I am best inclined to create dishes that I have some type of background in: things my mother made (and then showed me), flavors I eat on a regular basis and dishes I just won’t give up on no matter how many times I’ve tried. Shocking, I know. If we are growing and enjoy new experiences, our interests will tend to take us further than that we grew up with. We expand, we try new things, we have new experiences, and in some cases, we try to re-create those experiences.

I would not know how to boil water had my mother not shown me how first (love you Mom!). I would not have known how to create the best burger in the world without my wife (love you too!). Everything, I have learned to cook, whether through technique or ingredients, someone else showed me how. This is my culinary growth.

Our spiritual growth is no different. We must have someone to lead us, even if they are only one step further along than we are. We need mentors that have “been there and done that,” so that hopefully we don’t end up making a mess that we then have to eat. Without mentors we would surely stagnate and fall away from God.

I am blessed to belong to a church filled with such people; people willing to lead where they can, willing to share experience. I am also blessed to belong to a very diverse small group; a group that regularly helps push me closer to God. Without both of these blessings, I guarantee that my walk with God would not be what it is for me.

I still love Pad Thai, but before I try to make it again myself, I’ll find someone who’s done it before. I suggest the same for anyone trying to get to God without a church and a mentor. Don’t forget that you can be a mentor too; you may have more to contribute than you know. There’s only one recipe for God, and it’s very difficult to make on your own.

You’ll have to pardon me now, I have to go get my antacids.

You have to know, right up front, that feeding me and the kids, isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Me, I’m a picky eater. Vegetables? I’ll eat a few, and I’m better than I used to be, but for the most part, they are not my thing. The kids? As long as it has peanut butter, jelly or cheese spread upon it, all is right in the world. My husband on the other hand, has an adventurous soul. He has a zest for life and an iron belly. A dangerous combination indeed. He’ll try anything once. And, most of the time, he’s happy eating absolutely anything. He eats my cooking, so that’s a testimonial in itself. But that’s a story for another day.

Tonight, after a mad dash through the grocery store for items such as yeast, bell pepper, feta cheese, bacon and wine, I was a little nervous. The kids were oblivious to these items, because I picked up chocolate ice cream, so they knew mom at least had dessert covered.

We go home and unpack the groceries, and more interesting items are pulled from the shelves. Jon has decided to let the kids in on the secret – we’re making pizza. The kids are jazzed and ready for action. The hands are washed and sleeves are rolled up – it’s time to make a mess in the kitchen. Cool, they say.

As I disappear to start my mountain of laundry, Jon and the kids starting making dough. Yes, I said making the dough. I love Jon for this. He’s totally into making things from scratch now, and loving every minute of it. As I pass through the kitchen, our 11 year old son is calling out measurements from the online recipe. Our six year old daughter is sitting on the kitchen counter asking daddy “can I stir, can I hold it, can I…” She’s up to her elbows in flour and giggling as only six year olds can. The big kid, my husband, is also grinning from ear to ear, because he too is in hog heaven. What a picture this makes. To see my husband beaming in his element, is wonderful. Our son is preparing the veggies. “How’s this size, dad?” Looks great! “Is this big enough?” Yep, but don’t cut your thumb off, you might need it one day. Then he starts on the onion and I hear “Dad, my eyes are hurting really bad!” Okay, I’ll do that part. I tell him, it’s okay sweetie, onions always make me cry too.

A while later, we’re all at the table with hunks of dough, piles of flour, and giggles. Pounding, tossing, crunching and smushing – we have our little mini pizzas ready for the oven. It was difficult not to start a flour war, as I often do, but deep down inside, I knew I was too tired to clean up the mess.

While the dough bakes, we finish the toppings. The kitchen looks like Emeril has stopped by – piles of spinach, ham, chicken, feta cheese, mozzarella, tomatoes, bell pepper, onions, pepperoni, tomato sauce and alfredo sauce. Did I mention the chopped pecans?

Before long, we’re piling our little baked pizza crusts with mountains of toppings, for one more quick run through the oven. I’m proud of our son -he’s trying new things – sprinkles of bacon, feta cheese, pepperoni and tomatoes. Jon is making a masterpiece with spinach, alfredo sauce, bell peppers, pecans and mozarella, and after than I lost count. My chicken, spinach, alfredo and feta cheese combo was spectacular. Our daughter’s pepperoni, cheese and tomato even looked awesome. We did good. Really good. But all the credit goes to my husband. Without his creativity and zest for life, we would have had boring tacos for dinner. Instead, we had adventure, laughter and a wonderful dinner. The kids were beaming because they made their own pizzas. They were even helping with dishes without being asked. If that’s not good, I don’t know what is.

By the way, in case your wondering what the wine went into, that’s easy. Me.