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Wednesday, 23 November 2016

There are Cheesecake People and there are Salad People, and then there are the Jellybean People




There are Cheesecake People and there are Salad People, and then there are the Jellybean People. I’m a Cheesecake person, but not for the reasons you’d think. I don’t like eating them, but I love making them! They’re just so easy to make look beautiful (and expensive!). Not much effort for a whole heap of class.

Eating? I’d prefer a nice salad over a cheesecake any day. You know, those ones with fancy names like Chargrilled Pumpkin and Feta salad, Roast Green Beans with Sweet Berry Tomatoes, or Peach Pancetta and Mozzarella salad. Yummmmmmm!!!

My sisters-in-law are great at making salads. I should know. Every Christmas I fill my plate with their creations. Last Christmas, my five-year-old daughter skipped the meat, lollies and cakes spread across the table and filled her plate with salad too, if that gives you any idea of how great they looked!

But before the eating comes the inevitable stand around the table and admire each other’s creations. It goes something like this…

“Wow! Check out that salad! That looks awesome! Is that mango in there?”
“Yep.”
“Yum! And that one! Caramelised sweet potato? Seriously? Wow! Can’t wait to try it.”
“It’s just a salad.”
“Ha! My salads consist of badly chopped tomato, iceberg lettuce, carrot and, if you’re lucky, capsicum and cucumber. Nothing like that. I wish I could make salads like that.”
“Yeah, but look at your cheesecake! I can’t believe you made that! It looks like something you’d buy from a cake shop.”
“It is pretty but really, it’s heaps easier than it looks. Anyone could make it.”
“I couldn’t.”

And so it goes on. We each think our creation is the easiest thing in the world to make, while the thought of making the other thing has us completely stressing!

Cheesecake People and Salad People.

Then the Jellybeans turned up. No baking or mixing to make them whatsoever but hours of fun since the giant bag of crazy flavoured Jellybeans didn’t come with a cheat sheet of what each flavour was. It wouldn’t have been the Christmas it was without the Jellybean Person.

Or the Chocolate Ball Person, or the Pizza Scroll Person. Or the ‘I Just Provided the House’ (but we really know she did way more than that) Person.

See, Christmas lunch wouldn’t be Christmas lunch if everyone didn’t bring the bit they were good at. I bring cheesecakes because, believe me, even ducks who eat anything turn up their beaks at my salads. But I can do cheesecakes. My sisters bring salads because they hate baking but their salads are incredible. My brother brought jellybeans and a stack of laughter. And Mum and Dad provided the house which really is a big deal since we’d all be sitting on the street if not for that. I don’t think even cheesecake would taste good sitting on the side of the street.

Nor would a whole table full of cheesecakes make a very good lunch. Or a whole table of jellybeans. Or an empty house with no food. 

Pretty sure you’ve got the idea by now but in case you haven’t, here it is:

The world needs you and your gifts.

Whether you’re good at baking, tossing a salad together, buying jellybeans, opening the door to your house, finding the right music to set the scene, cleaning up, organising everyone else (or footing the bill to enable them to do something they might not have otherwise been able to do!), telling a joke, being adorable, filling the silence, providing the silence, or turning on some lights, you’re needed.

Got that? You’re needed. You. Your exact set of gifts. That thing you can do? God needs it. The world needs it. Something you find incredibly easy to do really is a challenge for someone else, and vice versa.


It might be nothing to you, but it means the world to someone else.