Surrender

My hands look older than they should. There's the scar on my right hand from dropping a knife on it while I was cleaning, a burn mark on my left from getting too close to hot metal as I was taking food out to the line, dry skin from the constant washing and sanitizing of my hands and the stainless steel world I am most at home in. My hands speak of the manuel labour that I love, the heat of the kitchen I can't get enough of.

The way I eat has changed too. I used to plan elaborate meals for every day of the week. Now, most of my money goes back into my beloved food industry. Or, I will eat cereal, popcorn, a sandwich, anything quick and easy because my feet are sore, my belly is growling, and I have poured all my creative energy into someone else's meal.

I am not upset about it. I love what I do. There are certain things I have surrendered to in this pursuit of this passion. But I think that is what love is. It's a giving over of one's self to something or someone and a willingness to let that surrender change and shape the self. Some of the ways we are transformed are our own choice. I could choose to plan meals and stick to them, but I don't generally. Other things, like the way my hands look, well, those are a gift love has bestowed upon me.

The question then becomes, am I willing to surrender to this person, this experience, this passion and allow it to change me, or is the price too high to pay? Each one of us is confronted with this question whenever we fall in love with anything in our life. For love to grow, it must be nurtured. And in that nurturing comes the surrender.

For me, being in love with feeding people has been frustrating, agonizing, painful, beautiful, gratifying, and worthwhile. There is meaning in it, even though the paycheck is small and the demands are huge. I wouldn't trade this for an easier path because I love it. I hope you feel the same about whatever you decide is worth surrendering to.