A Minute of “Rest”
I was a junior in high school when one of my classes decided to throw a party to celebrate the end of the semester. I decided I would bring my mama’s famous pepper chicken, a family favorite. I asked mom if she would teach me how to make it and she agreed to show me Thursday. We went grocery shopping and bought all the ingredients, and I was excited to finally know how to duplicate my mother’s delicious, well-loved recipe.
My days started at dawn with an early morning study class and often ended late due to some activity, usually academic or work related. My school days were often spent napping in between classes, if not during. I came home that Thursday and asked mother to wake me up in an hour so I could take a quick nap and then get started on the chicken prep. I climbed into my bed and drifted off to sleep.
Later, I opened my eyes to find it eerily dark in my room. I drowsily looked at my clock and saw that it was past 8:30. In a panic, I clumsily made my way to the kitchen to find the spicy smell of pepper chicken rising out of the oven. My mom was standing in the kitchen cleaning up the prep dishes.
“Mom! You didn’t wake me up?!” My tired mind raced to all sorts of conclusions. She didn’t really want to teach me; she wanted her tasty recipe to die with her and her alone! Without looking up from what she was doing, my mom replied. “I didn’t want to wake you. You seemed like you really needed the sleep.”
I felt my indignation melt away as I realized mom, as she and dad often did, was just trying her best to be helpful—trying to ascertain what would be in my best interest. And while I thought learning how to successfully prepare her esteemed dish was more important, she saw an opportunity to serve and allow her exhausted 17-year-old to get some much needed rest. Needless to say, the pepper chicken made with love was a hit with my classmates.