The Instapot, the thing that was all the rage, or, at least in my mind it was. It was going to be my dinner savior and would make my culinary life so much easier. When Amazon had their big Black Friday type sale on a hot summer day back in 2016, I succumbed to the irresistible drawing and purchased my steal-of-a-deal appliance.
Did this particular handy-dandy hybrid of crockpot/pressure cooker/magical machine live up to all its hype? I have no idea. This would be because I never actually used it, not once. It sat in an unopened box for over a year. It finally made its way out of said box about two months ago and has been sitting on top of my refrigerator untouched since.
While everything in me wanted to use this instant-dinner pot, I was intimidated by it more. Silly? Yes. I cannot explain my irrational thinking, my intimidation does not even have much to do with all the warnings and horror stories I have seen floating around on Facebook. In fact, I truly am not that worried about it blowing up in my face. I know more people who have successfully used this machine a thousand times over with never an incident than I do even one (real) person who has had any issues at all.
My intimidation is in the process. It is in the results.
The different settings, the various functions, the pieces that need to be handled just so…I learned much by joining an ACTUAL Instapot community page on FB. But no matter how much courage I tried to muster…it just was not going to happen. It has become an outstanding joke between my husband and I…and it sits there like a huge sign daily reminding me (and him) that I am NOT using this little piece of magic.
Here goes my life, in many respects. When certain things start to look complicated or I let them get in my head, it is so very hard for me to overcome them. Fear of not knowing, fear of messing up, and an absolute fear of failure is often my motivation to do nothing. Fear is one of the most gripping and controlling thing, if left unchecked.
There are healthy fears…and there are ones that need to be released or at the very least modified.
One of the most common phrases my siblings are used to me saying about something I won’t eat or try doing is, “I’m scared!”. We laugh and we joke. But there is more truth in that than not.
Ergo, the next part of this post will now make more sense…
On October 26, 2017 something passed through my regular Facebook feed that caught my attention. It was a post by Ann Swindell. She was advertising a post for a writing retreat that she was going to host. I remember a feeling of interest run through me. But, left it as that. A feeling based on my own love of all things words and writing. I moved on.
Wouldn’t you know that the picture of that post in my mind wouldn’t go away. I swatted at it numerous times, but like the swatting away of flies in my own home, it did no good. It kept coming back to buzz in my thoughts. I chased it away with facts. I mean, affordability was a huge reason to just say no. The retreat itself, was really a great price for what you are getting…but that did not mean it was exactly affordable for me. I batted at the idea of attending with a swift swing of dismissing myself, only to strike out every time. No matter what I tried, it kept coming back to me. I approached my husband…surely he would balk at the idea of spending money for a writing retreat and encourage me into something else. My husband, I fear, is my biggest fan and my all-time supporter. He didn’t skip a beat – “I think you should go”.
I visited that website over and over all December. Pursuing interest while combating it, also. December 31st was the deadline for early-bird pricing…it was the date I remember seeing from the beginning and somehow made it my decision date (even when I had decided against it). I sat next to my husband, on a New Year’s Eve night, and looked at him. “What do you think I should do?” He said, again, to go. I tried to get him to tell me why I should go and why I shouldn’t. I wanted to be told that this is kind of like the instapot thing and it just wasn’t going to work out for me, even if I think I should love it. It would be complicated. It would be new. It would be something to fail at doing. But none of those things, of course, came out of my husband’s mouth. He encouraged, like he always does.
Now of course, there is also the other person I consulted in all this. I prayed. Well, first, I half-hearted prayed, so I could say I did and would then just not sign up. Then I really prayed. I went to scripture. I prayed some more.
There was never a big sign telling me to do it. It wasn’t like that at all. It was a whisper, Trust me. It was a reminder, what you have been entrusted with…be faithful in using the gifts you have been given. It was so many little things. I stopped trying to control and I clicked a button, a click that has been one of the most faith-reliant steps I have ever taken. I am trusting Him to provide (which He already is showing that He absolutely will) for the cost and I am trusting that He will reign over my own fears and keep me from sabotaging a chance to learn and grow in the very gift He has given me to love and use.
There is more to share, but for the sake of words, I will save the rest for another day.