When I was diagnosed with diabetes a few years ago, it took me a few days to wrap my mind around the fact that life as I had always known it had changed forever in the blink of an eye. The moment my doctor uttered the words, "You have diabetes and it's serious," my very existence suddenly became dependent upon blood sugar levels and the food I chose to eat, or not to eat as the case may be. For the most part, I've grown accustomed to the standard high protein, low carb diabetic diet ... for the most part being the important and key words in that statement. There are times, like today at work, for instance, when we were all treated to a Chipotle buffet in the kitchen following our quarterly meeting.
I would have given almost anything this afternoon to be able to chow down on a giant burrito ... a soft flour tortilla filled to capacity with rice and beans and sour cream and corn salsa ... but instead I mixed together a couple of spoonfuls of chicken and steak, threw some cheese, lettuce and fresh tomato salsa on top, and called it done. The crazy thing is that we've had Chipotle catered in for our quarterly meeting lunches a bunch of times and I didn't crave a burrito at all. I wasn't jealous of my co-workers as they created their own version of burritos and nachos ... yes, there are always tortilla chips, too ... but today for some unknown reason, I would have given just about anything to be able to eat a delicious filled-to-overflowing Chipotle burrito.
My daughter and son-in-law live in a small town in Missouri ... a small town that has a gigantic Fourth of July celebration, so gigantic, in fact, that it lasts for four days. Just like so many other things in my life, there was no way I could fully understand or appreciate what a big deal the Fourth of July festivities are in my daughter and son-in-law's town until I experienced them firsthand. Even though Meg and Barrett have told me over and over again how spectacular the celebration is, I just didn't get it until I saw it with my own eyes, smelled it with my own nose, heard it with my own ears and tasted it with my own mouth. I was amazed at how many people filled the park for the concerts, veteran appreciation ceremonies and fireworks ... people came from miles around to this little town to take part in the Fourth of July festivities.
I was more than a little anxious when my daughter and son-in-law informed me upon my arrival that they had signed me up to work with them at a food truck on Friday evening ... anxious because I had never in my life worked at a food truck and didn't have a clue what to expect. I'll spare you the details of how miserably I failed at my initial assignment ... let's just say that I would make a really terrible server in a restaurant and leave it at that. Because of my complete ineptitude at making change and remembering what people were ordering, it only took a few minutes for the head of the crew to politely ask me to relinquish my spot on the front lines and move to the inside of the truck to help prepare the food. Now remember, I had never ever worked at or in anything that even remotely resembled a food truck, and I'm quite sure the seasoned folks who are without question food truck gods and goddesses could have and probably should have kicked me right out the door of their gourmet wagon on wheels as my inexperience quickly made itself known. Perhaps it was just nerves, but you would think I had never put a hot dog on a bun in my entire life. I mean seriously ... the other people working that evening in the food truck had unbelievably awesome food prepping skills, and I struggled like a crazy woman just trying to put hot dogs on buns.
As I was driving home after work this evening, I realized that it wasn't the soft flour tortilla with all the fixings that I was really craving at work today ... it wasn't the tortillas I wanted at all. What I was craving ... what I wanted and would have given anything to have was to be like everyone else. I wanted to not feel different from my friends at work ... I wanted to be the same as them. It's the same feeling I had when I was standing in that food truck on the Fourth of July weekend ... I would have given anything in that moment to not feel different or inadequate ... I would have given anything to just be like the people who ripped through preparing burgers and dogs and walking tacos like no one else I've ever seen.
So what's my point this evening? What great lesson I've learned or truth I've come to understand do I have to share with you? The truth is that I will never again have the luxury of eating whatever I want and the odds are I'll always be the odd eater in the crowd. The lesson is that there are now and will forever be things that I'm not good at, and that's absolutely, positively okay. It's our differences that make us special ... it's when we learn to use our differences to work together that we become better people. I will never again be able to eat a loaded burrito and I most certainly will not win a hot dog making contest ... but ... but ... but ... I can buy Chipotle for a family who's struggling to make ends and I can cook up some hot dogs and feed a bunch of hungry kids or my homeless buddies under the bridge. You bet I can do that, friends ... you bet I can, and so can you.
Hot diggity dog ... that's why I was on that food truck and that's why I wanted that tortilla so badly ... hot diggity dog indeed.
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