A Sacrifice of Brisket

For those of you who grew up with one finger in a cookbook, you will never understand the trepidation with which I approached my son's dinner request.  He would be home for one evening, lovely bride to be, Karissa in tow, en route to a spring break with friends.
"And what would you like for dinner? " I asked.
"Brisket. And sweet potatoes. "
I was a vegetarian for 15 years. I still don't often eat meat.  I did not even know what brisket was. I know. Who can live 54 years...or is it 55.... and not know what brisket is? I have heard of it, but I never have seen it.

However, I assured my dear son that when he arrived, brisket would be awaiting him and his fiancee.
I hurried to Harris Teeter with Asherel.
"Help me find brisket! "
"What does it look like? "
"I don't know. Go look."
"Here!  No wait. This is just a recipe for brisket."
I snatched that from her. It could come in handy.  I quickly perused the instructions. 6 hours!  Brisket bakes for 6 hours! And the list of ingredients for sweet and spicy Carolina brisket was longer than my gasp that escaped me as I looked with dismay at the recipe.
"This is probably a fancy recipe, " comforted Asherel.
A worker walked by.
"Excuse me," I asked,"Do you carry brisket?"
This seemed more clever than saying, Is brisket a type of meat or vegetable or what?! "
She pointed at a large packet of meat right under the brisket recipe card. I inhaled loudly as I glanced at the price.
"Is all brisket this large? "
She seemed to begin to discern that I was not a seasoned brisket shopper.
"I might have a smaller one in the back," she said.
I don't know what brisket is made of, but it is larger than a dog.

While she was gone I was plotting how I could pull off the price tag before my husband saw what amount  brisket would set us back.
She returned with a marginally smaller slab. I hoisted the brisket into my cart and had Asherel read me the preparation instructions as I drove home.
I could see I would need to carve out a full afternoon to pull this off.

Another snafu awaited me. For four hours the brisket would need to bake, and then the (homemade....yea right) bbq sauce would be applied, and then it would bake two more hours. I had to plan the brisket around Asherel's Science Olympiad class. How would I get the brisket in on time?  If I put the brisket in before we left for class, it would be done too soon, but if I waited til after class, too late. I could only get the brisket in on time if dinner was at 6. I saw no way around this. I let Matt know the night before that dinner would be around 6. They would be there.

I began preparing the brisket with a "spicy and sweet rub" in the morning. The "spicy and sweet rub" required 10 different ingredients. My sisters would be delighted to know I used only one minor substitution. Who ever even heard of white pepper anyway? Oh, and I forgot the Worcestershire sauce, but since no one can even say that, it can't be critical. The rub was applied and then the brisket sat in the refrigerator with the rub for an hour. I happily followed the instructions to the T, and then put the brisket in the 250 degree oven.

Matt called me later in the morning, "Mom, I may have broken my ankle. I might be late."
"But my brisket will burn!!! Can't you just tie a napkin around it and hobble til after we eat the brisket?"
"Can dinner be at 8?" he asked. Then he would have time for an xray, and even any necessary surgeries.
"Yes, but if the doctor wants to operate, tell him it will need to be after the brisket."
I lowered the heat. I called a friend and asked if she could bring Asherel home from her class so that I could marinate my brisket.

Fortunately, Matt's ankle improved through the day, and his fiancee drove. They called at 7 as I peeked in at my brisket. The brisket looked fine, but the sweet potatoes were liquifying. Since I normally bake them at 400 degrees, I calculated that at the much lower temperature, they would need 3 hours to bake. I was wrong. Drips of sweet potato, trying to escape the heat were fleeing from their tin foil wraps.

"Mom, traffic is awful. We'll be there at 8," said Matt.
I glanced at my sweet potatoes, drip drip dripping onto the brisket pan.
"How's the ankle?" I asked.
"I got a brace for it. It is fine!"





But my sweet potatoes needed a doctor now.I wrapped the sweet potatoes in another layer of foil and put them on top of the stove. I lowered the heat of the brisket again, and sighed. Labors of love never seem to go quite as one would hope in my life.

But I am not alone in this. Jesus, in His desire to save all mankind did not meet praise, and gratitude as one might expect when dying for others. Instead He was beaten, and taunted, and pierced with nails. Love probably never felt so bad.

Now don't get me wrong. I am hardly equating my sacrifice of brisket with Jesus' sacrifice. All I am saying is sometimes when we step forward and act out of motivations of love, it doesn't always go the way one might expect. That doesn't mean its purpose is thwarted. It just means that sometimes, its path is unexpected.

In the end, they arrived, the brisket was delicious and the mooshy potatoes were easy on the jaw. I have conquered brisket after half a century of living and will be undaunted should the need ever arise to make it again. And we have enough brisket left over to last us til Matt and Karissa stop by on the way back from spring break.

Ruth 4: 13
¹⁵ He will renew your life and sustain you in your old age.