What can you learn from a set of knives?

I had the feeling for the first time when I was about 9 or 10. While Kristin, my best friend since forever, and I were skipping church and lounging around in front of the TV on a Sunday morning, I saw it. My first infomercial. Miracle blades. Look how easily you could cut a tomato. Need an aluminum can cut in half? No problem. Done. And the price is unbeatable. A 99 dollar value, for 19.99?? Seriously, its practically like they are giving us money. Oh wait, an extra knife is you promise to give it to a friend to share the beauty of effortless chopping and dicing. Too good to be true? Not in my vocabulary, not then, not now. It was that idea, that thought, that feeling that this product, this thing, would make everything better. Easier. No more sad days, the Miracle Blade is in the mail.


I was lucky enough to be blessed with a Mom that would play along. The miracle blades were ordered. I gave the free bonus knife to Kristin as promised. I do believe that you could still find that knife somewhere in her parent’s kitchen. We cut some tomatoes, sawed an aluminum can in half….and bought into the next hot product that caught our eye.


The Jet Air Hair Styling system. Kristin and I caught this infomercial in the middle of the night. One time only. And then it disappeared. Gave us a flash of the two of us, showing in sixth grade, working the model hair, in ONLY 15 MINUTES A DAY! We kept staying up late, waiting for a rebroadcast. But no. The jet air was elusive, only adding hunger pains to our puffy haired selves. See, Kristin had developed a “curly spot” in her hair at the time. One single, small patch of curly hair in the back of her head. Hard to hide, hard to tame. And me? Narcissism set in early, and I was fairly confident that I would be looking like the models on TV in minutes. If I only had a Jet Air….


Think back if you can. Remember when…..there was no internet. No google, no yahoo, no ipod, pad, phone, etc. The freaky little in the sprint commercial that ended by flashing www.sprint.com, had not yet sparked our curiosity. So, we called information and was given a number for “Jet air”. Unfortunately, this company manufactured Jet engines. No, thanks. I’m not sure how, perhaps my Mom caught the infomercial some night, but the number was found after a several month search. Two Jet Airs were ordered. We were on our way. Curly spot didn’t stand a chance. I would be gracing the cover of YM magazine in no time. This , this, is it. This is the product that will make our lives easier. We will be forever changed.


It was ok. No big thing. We gave my Aunt Lila a makeover once, and that was fun. I still use the basic hairclips as a way to section off my hair each morning for the flat iron treatment. The end of Jet air.


But, not the end of the great, “it will fix everything” attitude. The products have gotten bigger. The payments have exceeded 19.99 a month. A big wedding. A new car, then again, and again, and again, until we hit 6. A new house. New furniture. New jobs. New wardrobe. New baby. Despite all of this, all of the times I’ve had it, the same feeling remains. Excitement. The answer. What I’ve been searching for. An easier life. A happier life. I never lose that. I’ve yet to become jaded.


Friends and I have had conversations about the longing, the searching. Why are we dissatisfied in our lives? Why is it so hard to just be content in our lives with what we have. We do have a lot, and far more than just what we need. Clearly an area in need of some work. A spiritual shortcoming for sure.


But then, an epiphany. As I was driving to our new house in the oldest of the new cars, thinking about my two babies, and the new thirty-one products I had ordered with hopes of organizing my life (including my disaster of a car, my make up drawer, and my desk which has become mildly famous), I get it. These products do contain the things that change my life. Make my life easier. Make me happier. My feelings on these products explain who I am, my worldview, my beliefs, my heart.


The first jewel hiding in these products is optimism. A belief that these smiley, happy, overly excited TV pitchmen would never lie. There is honesty in the world. Why would I be skeptical? He says that it is true. The in studio audience and random people on the street are ecstatic. It must really be something special.


Something my yearning says about myself: I am aware of my shortcomings and accept that I need help. I admit my desk is a disaster and it’s not just because my sister in law cringes every time she walks in my office. I know my makeup drawer is just crying for help. The blue and green eye shadows do need to go. I know that. It’s not practical to haul a family of four in a compact car. But, I am in need of the tools to help me reach that goal.


In embracing even the idea of these products, my hope shines through. There is a better way to cut tomatoes, do your hair, organize your life, and haul the kiddos around town. I believe there will be more blissful cries heard as more children take their first breath. More smiles from a baby and more laughs from a toddler. I do think things will get better. And saying this does not mean that things are bad now. It’s my nature to strive for more. I think it’s time to stop fighting that.


So I will not change. I will not see this as an area in need of improvement, but instead as a deeply disguised strength that I hold. A faith that I have. I will not feel guilty about looking for the next great thing, or the next great kid. It is not a lack of contentedness. It is just me. And I can finally see there was value in that set of knives which didn’t really cut that great or make my whole life better and easier. They, or the idea of them, helped to shape who I am today.


Or, perhaps, I just may be a little impulsive.