Once upon a time in a far away royal, wealthy, and largely standing kingdom called Sunnzar there once was a young girl who was none of these things. She was born into a poor family who had given her up for adoption because of her parent's incapability to afford raising her. After years of not yet being adopted she was transferred into a foster system, growing up with a sweet old woman in a tiny & humble home on the edge of the kingdom (often passed by newcomers and tourists on their way into the kingdom). Her and the old woman's niece were about the same age. In her home and at a very old age the old woman died a peaceful death. She lived a good, long life and Amatha truly appreciated her for who she was- but lived in fear of how she could continue to live in the house and lifestyle the old woman left behind.
Amatha fended to live on her own at the youngest adult age of 18. Amatha struggled to get a job and convinced herself she was going to live out on the streets, just before she was hired at a restaurant on a surrounding street of the main castle of the kingdom because of their desperate need for kitchen workers.
As she tied her apron before her first day she thought to herself about how she certainly didn't plan on working in a kitchen. She thought, if she was going to be hired at this restaurant, she would at least work as a servant, a waitress, even a cleaning maid. But she had no complaints because money was money- she had no other options it seemed.
It was also beneficial because she got one free meal from there working more than 4 hours, and working 8 hours she got two. On her first day after they explained this system to her, she decided to have her employee meal before working- she hadn't eaten more than crackers in the past 1 or 2 days, she couldn't remember.
She felt very royally treated as they brought out her food to her with a smile and the question of if she needed anything else, kindly replying "no thank you". She hadn't remembered eating as good of a meal as this served with as much warmth since her foster mother passed.
She didn't remember eating a meal that looked so nicely made either. It was assorted beautifully on her plate, so colorful and so tasteful to the eyes. It made her excited to work behind-the-scenes of such seemingly gourmet food. She finished her food with 5 minutes to spare, then began work.
They quickly trained her in one area of the kitchen where they were lacking staff the most, and then left her be to began picking up on their cooking system for herself; as it was also where they placed their beginning kitchen workers. She felt good and confident about what she was doing- something made her sense that she was meant to be here.
She heard her stomach growl as she was preparing raw chicken to be made, a few hours within working. She thought of it as nothing; she hadn't eaten in possibly a few days- of course she was hungry, even after that wonderful meal. But suddenly it growled again, and this time she felt it in the pit of her stomach. She still tried to shake it off and kept trying to prepare the raw chicken. But only a few minutes later her vision began to blur slowly as she became more and more nauseous. She tried to balance herself, as someone in the station beside her asked if she was alright. In her attempt to nod, she staggered. "Someone get her help," she heard as she blurred out of consciousness.
****
"I am so sorry about yesterday. I don't know what overcame me," Amatha tried to explain to her boss. "Everything just started to fade as I felt piercing pain in my stomach. I won't let it happen again."
"How will you do that?" the boss questioned her. "Did you at least see a doctor?"
She couldn't even think about how expensive a doctor would cost. How could she ever afford one? But she didn't want to tell him that. "No. I was fine when I got home."
"Alright. Well, if you're well enough, we need you back in there today. Are you up for it?"
"Yes yes, most definitely," she assured him.
And into the kitchen she went. She felt hungry as she prepared the chicken, but simply forgot to get her meal before work that day.
A few hours into her shift she took a break to use the restroom. After stepping out of the public restroom, she nearly bumped into a woman who looked wound up and ready to attack.
"Excuse me, do you work in this establishment?!" She enraged.
"Yes," the young girl responded.
"Well. I am certainly not here to buy any of your food today. I just came to say your food poisoned my child!!" She sternly pointed toward the kitchen and continued. "Whatever is coming out of there caused my child to black out. We were in the hospital all night!! And guess what the doctors diagnosed?"
The young girl stood silently, mouth slightly open from shock.
"Food poisoning!" She shook her head as her face almost began to glisten with sweat from rage. "I don't know what you all are doing back there. But you better start thinking about what you're serving. My babies need food to live. If you serve this kind of rummage as food, how do you expect anyone to live fully?" She whipped herself to the door and slammed it behind her.
The young woman didn't know what to say at all. "...how do you expect anyone to live fully?" rung through her head. She began to look around at the guests surrounding her, trying to figure out what was in the food that was causing this to happen; making it apparent what caused her blacking out the previous day.
She watched a young family eat food she helped prepare. They said grace before their food and smiled in excitement of eating it. They all dug in, laughing over shared stories and comfort from the necessity of hunger being satisfied with food that not only looked good, and smelled good, but tasted good- so oblivious and ignorant to what they were possibly contaminating themselves with.
She couldn't believe it. She remembered the feeling of amazement as she studied her colorfully arrayed plate of food the previous day. How could food that looked, smelled, and tasted so delightful caused such pain, misery, and illness?
She marched to the kitchen. Something wasn't right, and she had to get to the bottom of it.
****
The young woman tied up her hair in the restaurant bathroom while holding a bobby pin in her teeth. After quickly pinching them into her hair, she dashed to the kitchen where her coworker tossed her a hairnet.
"I'm surprised, Amatha-" her coworker chuckled, "-even after being promoted to manager for a year now, you still barely make it to work on time."
"You think I'd learn by now," Amatha laughed along.
"Well, at least you're good at everything else." She smiled and returned to the station Amatha had once started at preparing chicken.
Amatha grinned and decided to help her new coworker at the station for beginners. She reflected on how far she had come since then- after giving out food poisoning and receiving food poisoning herself, Amatha went on to research and spend long nights seeing what could possibly being causing food that looked, smelled, and tasted so good to be causing such a terrible reaction. She eventually saw different elements happening such as cross-contamination and other various unsanitary practices occurring within the kitchen. After bringing these to the attention of her boss, new safety and cleanliness rules as well as cooking practices were established. And when this happened, the restaurant buzzed with new customers; even though nothing was revealed about the uncleanliness of the kitchen previously to the public. They just seemed to appear and keep appearing. Her boss eventually promoted her and glorified her for taking action to bring the customers the best quality food she could to the table-to make the food looking, smelling, and tasting good- but all as a result of actually being good, not just because they were able to make it seem so within the kitchen.
Amatha smiled as she walked through dining room feeling purpose- to bring something into these people's lives that was more than just nice looking, but was genuine; and gave them a necessity that was vital to life. Amatha went on to become a personal cook for the royal members of the governing kingdom of Sunnzar.
***
How can we serve others and give God's love and word in a way that is completely genuine, not just making ourselves look like good people or act like our lives are perfect- but living in joy, comfort, and complete confidence as a result of what God has done for us? It's okay to have brokenness in our lives. It's okay to be imperfect and to mess up everyday. God still loves us. I think God would rather us live messy looking lives while in a relationship with Him then living a life that looks perfect but is actually fake and lacking what is vital for us to live- God. Like the food previously cooked in the story, if we allow our lives to be masked by images that we are fine and that nothing is wrong- we will only poison ourselves. But if we live genuinely for the Lord, and genuinely serve others and genuinely interpret and live out His word- we will be filled with what is necessary to live, like food is necessary for us to live- God's love.
And a special thanks to a coworker of mine from work who provided a different version of the metaphor for this story!
