MY LIFE AS A SPAGHETTI NOODLE

I love spaghetti. When cooked right and flavored with sauce and cheeses, there’s nothing like it in the comfort food department.

It could be because the sweetest childhood memories of mom’s spaghetti and meatballs are fanned to flame. I can visualize every detail of the kitchen table and the smiling faces around it at a time when life seemed so Leave-it-to-Beaver perfect. 

I recall the sheer welcoming delight of coming home from school and smelling Italian food, thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t going to be sauerkraut or Brussels sprouts! I have Italian blood for goodness sake. Just give me pasta and cheese.     

In Italia, I learned to savor the best in the world. In fact, I discovered the prevailing national outlook in regards to culinary preferences when I asked why there were so few ethnic restaurants. “We’re Italian,” they said. “We do pasta and pizza. Who needs anything more?” And of course, they are the experts on spaghetti.

Spaghetti is interesting and fun. You can creatively dress it up or down. It can be your everyday sustenance or sheer gourmet delight. I discovered my favorite recipe living in Roma last year. It is spaghetti alla carbanara. Made with eggs and pancetta, so warm and satisfying, I’m quite sure that’s how it will be served in the celestial city.

But there's another take on this tasty dish to chew on...

A few years ago at the kick-off to a new Bible study, about 75 women were going around the room introducing ourselves by naming an object that somehow embodies who we are. A vehicle, appliance or tool might convey where we are in life or the many roles we perform. 

One woman said she was a blender, because she makes a lot of noise and mixes things up. Life is a whir of activity. Another chose a trusty broom, sweeping through the household, keeping life in order. An alarm clock, megaphone, taxi or punching bag are revealing visual images about how someone perceives themselves or the battles they’re waging!

When it was my turn I simply said, “I’m a spaghetti noodle.” But I wasn’t thinking of comfort food or culinary specialties at the time.

I had lost my husband after a terrible bout with brain cancer. I was afraid. I was broken. Life had changed drastically. I was merely thinking, my life is a mess and I can’t make sense of it.

I'm not at all like a sandwich with four neat corners, all trimmed and sliced, so very clear-cut. A sandwich has crisp edges, with all the contents arranged in neat layers. Sandwiches are so clean and tidy... Sandwiches make sense! 

Not so with spaghetti. Everything is so intricately intertwined and convoluted, you can’t trace the beginning or end of one single piece of it. That’s me!

I am multi-layered. I am backwards.

I am finished. I am starting over.

I am cooked! But I’m still warm.

I’m a mess!

But hopefully, there’s still something good. Something that will stick and fill and comfort the soul. 

Yes, Lord, I’m a mess but you delight in me! You are the expert, far above every Master chef, 
who can make my life a beautiful mess. 


Oh God, my Creator, you know me through and through, familiar with all my ways. You hem me in on all sides and nothing escapes your notice. Your strong hand upholds and sustains me and it is impossible to go where you cannot reach me. My very number of days was determined by your love before I was born, and you will lead me in the everlasting way forever!  Amen.  
(my pray-back from Psalm 139)