"Bitterly Scraping the Dishes" by Andrea Huffman
“For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him” (Matthew 21:32).
My Aunt Cathy commanded the kitchen during the holidays and ensured that everyone chipped in. You could help cook or set the table, or take drink orders. If you did none of the above, you’d be responsible for dishes and clean up. If you tried to hide, she would find you.
My older sister Jennifer was the eager volunteer, making her way to the kitchen first thing in the morning to offer her services to Aunt Cathy. Hours later—after dinner, while I was bitterly scraping away at the mountain of dirty dishes—Jennifer would be lounging on the couch enjoying her evening.
As I got older, I considered volunteering in the kitchen. It made sense strategically—Aunt Cathy always gave easier tasks to the volunteers than to the hold-outs. Plus, the cooks really enjoyed their time together, laughing and tasting and chatting away. Volunteering early seemed to result in a more joyful, relaxing holiday than I usually experienced—a much merrier Christmas—and I wanted in.
Only the thing was: I did not want to be like Jennifer. Unbeknownst to her, she and I were in constant competition. I had spent years trying to get out from underneath her older, more perfect shadow, so I intentionally differentiated my choices from hers (even to my detriment). Volunteering like she did would be acknowledging that Jennifer had been right all these years, that she had chosen better. It would be admitting that I was like her and that I wanted what she had.
Neither the joy that emanated from the kitchen nor the promise of evening relaxation was enough to change me. Even after I saw what she had and saw that I could have it too, I allowed the (self-imposed, one-sided) enmity between us to rule the day. I imagine that the holidays would have looked so different if I had called an internal truce—if I had let peace reign between us.
But I didn’t. I kept holding out, hiding and bitterly scraping away at dishes.
And Jennifer kept having merry Christmases.
Andrea Huffman