Take What's Given
It's one of those days. I read a few stories about how others got started in this screenwriting business. How they wrote a blockbuster and grabbed the big brass ring. Now they enjoy fame, fortune, and those people who actually want to read their stories.
I find myself looking in the mirror and muttering “So, you hack, what's wrong with YOU?". This is followed by a few more non-edifying thoughts and comments.
When I finally stop my pity party, my heart hears a familiar small, quiet Voice.
"Is the thing the brass ring? Or is it something else?"
I wander into the kitchen and refill my cup with The Elixir of Knowledge as I contemplate this difference. Contemplation that allows the dark roast to take a familiar parable and give it a contemporary twist.
It's now a cooking show. Like that one that has the kitchens stacked one over the other, the higher kitchens having the better equipment, utensils, and foodstuffs. And the show begins...
The Master Chef gives three cooks their equipment and supplies. The Master walks the first cook into the top-level with its commercial state-of-the-art kitchen. It contains the latest high-tech utensils and appliances and a walk-in refrigerator and freezer full of exotic and expensive fare. There's even a fully-stocked wine vault.
The Master walks the second cook down a floor and opens the door. It's a normal apartment kitchen with a normal oven and refrigerator with a freezer. The kitchen cabinets are scantily stocked with things for a family with kids. Little kids.
The Master walks the third cook down to the lobby, hands him a coat and a tin cup, and ushers him outside into the wind and snow. The Master nods, closes the door, and walks away.
Two hours pass. The Master enters the top-floor kitchen where the first cook stands next to a sumptuous five-course meal served on gleaming china with sparkling crystal glasses of wine and shining silverware.
The Master sits down and dines. He stands with a smile and puts His arm around the cook.
"Delicious! Great job."
The Master goes down a floor and enters. The second cook stands next to a round, sturdy table. The Master sits down in front of an ordinary place setting. The stainless steel silverware surrounds a white plate holding a grilled peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich. It’s toasted golden brown and cut into small triangles sprinkled with the slightest glimmer of cinnamon and sugar. The plain white cup by the plate holds hot herbal tea, its fragrant steam filling the room.
The Master eats in silence then stands. He puts his arm around the cook and smiles.
"Delicious! Great job."
The Master goes down to the lobby and looks out the glass doors. The third cook is huddled behind the trunk of a large tree, the wind causing the snow to drift across the walkway.
The Master walks outside to the shivering cook who has his hands deep inside his coat. The Master stands next to the cook. Not making eye contact, the cook carefully removes the tin cup from inside his coat. He offers it to The Master.
"I walked out to the deepest drift to get the purest snow. Then I held the cup next to my shirt to melt it."
The Master takes a deep draught from the offered cup. He steps close, wrapping the shivering cook in a tight hug as He whispers in his ear.
"Delicious! Great job."
Yeah. It's not what I do with what I don't have. It's what I do with what I got. And the brass ring's not the thing. It's the thrill we'll get when we hear:
"Well done, good and faithful servant...enter into the joy of your Master."