anticlimax

noun a disappointing end to an exciting or impressive series of events

Saturday nights are special at our house. We upgrade the meal, pull out the table cloth and placemats, light a candle, and begin preparing for Sunday worship by celebrating on Saturday night. It’s wonderful.

Though I’m usually the guy at the grill, lately, I’ve been trying my hand at desserts. We recently bought a copy of Julia Child’s cookbook–a very large, rather intimidating cookbook–to see if we could expand our culinary horizons. I flipped to the back looking for something a bit easier. I found chocolate. I love chocolate.

So I worked my way through most of the cakes, and thought I’d take a stab at some dessert crepes. In an old video, Julia very dramatically sets them on fire in a dish called Crepe Suzette. It looked awesome.

I gathered my supplies, worked my way through the recipe, and tried to build anticipation by keeping my preparations shrouded in mystery. “What are you making Daddy? Another cake?”

“Not this time–you’ll have to wait and see.”

I got burners and set up my pan at the head of the table. We turned the lights down low, and I went through the process of basting the creps in orange butter, right up to the climactic moment of setting it on fire.

Immediately I noticed that my flames were pathetically small compared to Julia’s, but they were there, and the kids didn’t know the difference. So I dramatically spooned the flaming liquid over the crepes, and tried not to look disappointed.

We plated the crepes, waited until they were passed around the table, and then took our first bites together.

Yuck. Something was wrong. What was supposed to be a rich, syrupy, orange ambrosia over a delicious crepe was bitter, grainy, and rather unpalatable. Huge build up–huge let down. One of my children was trying her best not to cry. Diedra quickly bailed me out by passing a box of Whoppers around the table–an acceptable consolation prize for small children, not so much for this disappointed dad.

I tackled it again on the following Monday–with less orange zest, more finely grated–and it was delicious. Perhaps it tasted even better after having failed so spectacularly.

Life is full of disappointments. It can be tempting to stop trying. It can be tempting to stop hoping. It can be tempting to grow cynical because the disappointment hurts too much. But I hope you’ll not give up on hope–hope well placed in His indestructible promises. Our Lord will never let us down.