Pan Ecstasy, or Sharing What Little I Have

When I first moved into my current apartment in February, I brought a boatload of books with me. (Actually, probably more than a boatload, but that's not the point of this blog entry.) I brought a bed, a desk, two bookshelves to house the books (and I still need the shelf space the desk affords, even with my two shelves), and a dresser. In addition, I had some towels. A few odds and ends. And I had one contribution for the kitchen: a Paul Revere 12" (at least, I'm pretty sure that's what size it is, but I've never actually measured it) skillet.

I felt bad that I didn't have more kitchenware to contribute, but everything in my last apartment had belonged to my roommate. Everything except that skillet. As I unpacked, I cringed every time I unpacked another box that didn't have anything I could share.

And then I unpacked the skillet and brought it out to the kitchen. I apologized to my roommate that it was the only thing I had to share, and I waited for a request to "go buy some dishes or something." It didn't come.

(I had the nerve to think it was just a pan. I should have known better, especially considering my accord with the writers of Finding Neverland that "just" is "a horrible, candle-snuffing word.")

Instead, I witnessed no small amount of glee. In fact, I have never--and I mean NEVER--seen someone grow so excited over any type of kitchen implement. She glowed as she talked about all of the things she could make with that pan, because they just didn't fit in the small pans they already owned.

This, my friends, was pan ecstasy.

And all of a sudden, I felt very good. Because I had caused it. Merely by bringing one kitchen pan.

I've been thinking about this recently whenever I find myself in a setting where I feel I have little to contribute. Where my offering, such as it is, seems relatively small when compared with the offering of others.

At times like these, I think of that pan. And I remember the delight my other roommate felt when she came home from visiting her family and saw it for the first time.

Sometimes, all we have to offer is a 12" skillet. And more often than we realize, our skillet is enough.