One July day, my three young kids and I pulled into the driveway, and the three kids proceeded to escape the van and the boundaries of a trip to the grocery store, including the putting the groceries away part. At that point, I was more than happy to put the groceries away by myself, because if you’ve ever had to endure taking three young kids to the less than desirable Walmart for groceries, you are happy for peace and a lack of what feels like a lot of “No, we don’t need that…please put that back” and herding cats by the time you arrive home!
I unloaded the entire back of my van on my own and began unpacking the groceries and putting them away. Meanwhile…..a small bag of frozen shrimp and a bag of frozen broccoli had managed to hide itself under the layer of soccer chairs that make their home in the back of the van. Unbeknownst to me, the thawing commenced.
A few days passed, and as you can imagine with the heat of July, each time we got into the van, the stench only became stronger. I searched the van high and low: under the seats, under the car seats, in the pockets, in my purse…but I could not find the culprit, and I was sure that a dead mouse was somewhere in my van, just decomposing by the minute.
The weekend came, and friends of ours invited us to swim, so we loaded up the van and headed to their neighborhood pool. The smell was obviously quite ripe at this point, but we overlooked it with the windows down and our hair in the wind as we happily thought about spending a summer afternoon playing in the pool.
After exhaustion had set in and three hungry kids were starving, we packed up our pool toys and headed to the van to bathe and eat. However, when we opened the back gate of the van, the smell overwhelmed us so much that we almost gagged! After removing everything in the gate, we found the culprit that had haunted our van trips for days….that hidden bag of shrimp and broccoli was obviously not frozen and compact, but swollen and bulging from the decomposing gasses preventing us from taking a breath of fresh air. Immediately, that bag hit the nearest trash can, and we just thought we had rid ourselves of the stench…but we were wrong! Days passed before that smell subsided!
A couple of years after this, I attended a funeral at a church where I had previously worked and attended, but that my family and I had left with great hurt. The place used to be one of great sentiment, including where I was married and my children were baptized. The day of the funeral loomed in the distance. I wanted to attend because of my love for my friend, but it would be the first time inside the building since I had left. I stood in line in that big sanctuary and could barely hold back my tears and desire to run out of there as fast as I could. I hugged my friend, told her I loved her and expressed my condolences, then left to break down in my van… a van that once again smelled of shrimp and broccoli that day.
In that moment, I recalled the laughter and horror of that day we found that shrimp and broccoli, and I chose to laugh about the events that had unfolded, not about my annoyance of the stench that still lingered. The Holy Spirit reminded me that although I had originally left with hurt from that place, that building didn’t have to stand for all of the rough memories. I had also had some beautiful memories there of our family growing, of friends who had cared for me and for us, and so many years of learning and being sanctified by the blood of Jesus on my continuing spiritual journey. He reminded me that I could choose to remember the goodness of God that I experienced there, instead of the sadness of when I left.
Even though it’s been years since then,
sometimes that smell appears again,
and the memories flood back in.
Isn’t that how life can be,
when a simple reminder stirs a memory,
and suddenly I’m right back in that place.
Whether shrimp and broccoli or joy,
I can choose to laugh or cry or grin,
when I remember when…
Years have passed and on certain days, you can still smell a hint of shrimp and broccoli. It smells a bit like someone left soccer cleats in the van overnight, but that smell is so familiar to me that I know its origination. Instead of remembering the money wasted on our limited budget and the annoyance of the aroma, I choose to smile every time I smell that stench, taking my thoughts captive to choose joy and love over hurt and sadness. The Holy Spirit continues to transform me by the renewing of my mind about so many circumstances in my life. The occasional smell is no longer just about broccoli and shrimp…it’s about beauty from ashes.
Lyrics to Shrimp and Broccoli:
It was a lovely summer day,
the kids and I were headed home from the store to play,
‘cause the store with three kids will make you insane!
Pulled into the driveway,
the kids escaped the van and ran away,
‘cause they knew what would happen if they stayed.
So I unloaded groceries by myself,
and I went inside to have a moment of peace…
But there was a bag, that I had left
in the back part of the van.
It was hidden from sight,
and although I tried to get them all,
that shrimp and broccoli bag was small.
The next day I got in the van,
and something didn’t smell quite right in there;
but, there wasn’t time for me to care.
The days passed and it got worse,
I searched under the seats and in my purse;
but, the culprit just could not be found.
And then I opened the back gate of the van,
and the smell hit me right in the face.
'Cause there was the bag,
that I had left
in the back part of the van,
It was now in my sight,
although I had tried to get them all,
that shrimp and broccoli bag was now thawed.
Even though it’s been years since then,
sometimes that smell appears again,
and the memories flood back in.
Isn’t that how life can be,
when a simple reminder stirs a memory,
and suddenly I’m right back in that place.
Whether shrimp and broccoli or joy,
I can choose to laugh or cry or grin,
when I remember when…
'Cause there was a bag,
that I once left
in the back part of my van,
and the smell calls to mind
that season of life when I couldn’t find
that shrimp and broccoli bag
I left behind.