The Great Food Fiasco

By Laura Grace

     I have thought about writing this book for many years now. Every time I thought about it, I shelved the idea, thinking I was a bad person for even wanting to write such a thing. But here’s the truth: The stories of Tim and I and the journey of our marriage, (and the food fiascos that went with it), have made many women laugh with relief, because they too, had many adjustments to make before they could truly be “happily married.”

     So, this is for you Tim, and for all the women or men out there who have struggled with this great thing called marriage. Just remember Tim, you’re the one who said, “If you need to throw me under the bus to help others, go ahead!” And I will add, if you want to do the same to me, write your own book! -Laura Grace Stainbrook: Sept 14, 2025.

Chapter 1: It was fun for awhile

 When I first married Tim, I was so excited to bless him with my hard-won, acquired achievement. Cooking. That was almost twenty-five years ago.

 We talked about expectations, and I remember asking him, before we got married, what are the most important things to you, as far as what you expect from a wife? 

 Tim, (a man of few words) said, “Feed me.” I wanted him to elaborate, so I asked, “What kinds of food do you like?” “I’m not picky, “He said, “Not very fond of chicken, but other than that, I’ll eat about anything.” Whether he meant to or not, it’s probably the single “untruth” he ever told me. Although, I don’t believe it was deliberate.

 Having been married before, and having that marriage end in divorce, for very justifiable reasons, I really had no experience being married to someone “normal” who would keep a job, go to work, and basically promised to always do that if I would “wake him up” and “feed him.” It seemed simple enough to me.

 I was feeling relief that there was no pressure to be the perfect wife, so I did what Laura always does; I went the extra mile and offered him all my services on a silver platter.

 Life was grand. Tim liked sausage, with buttered toast, (real butter) and 2 or three over-medium eggs. His first job, he had to leave at 6 am, so I was up at 5 am to drink my coffee, wake up, and start cooking. I was so joyful to be married to him, and eager to please.

 The best part was the compliments, like “You are so good to me, thank you, those eggs are perfect.” I was undaunted when he pointed out he’d really like his toast to “not’ be cut in half. I was learning what my husband liked, and excited to be faithful and give my best.

  I remember making his favorite potato salad, complete with green olives, very hard to slice up perfectly, and there were a lot of eggs to boil and peel for his mom’s famous salad.

 Now, keep in mind, I never liked cooking, did not ever have a fun time with it, but I had prayed for years to become more virtuous, and learn to at least have joy in the process.

 I have noticed, some women do love cooking, but I was not one of them. Still, the bible says to strive for excellence, and I was determined to be an excellent cook.

 The first year, things were wonderful, as I would look forward to Tim’s happy face as I made all his favorite meals, and being a woman who thrives on affirmation, I was just so happy when he’d want seconds and tell me how wonderful dinner was.

 I didn’t realize how praise motivated I was, until one day, Tim just didn’t say “Thank you,”
 that was good, anymore.

Which led to me asking why, which led to some fierce discussions.

“Did you like it?” I asked, missing the usual compliment.

“Yes, it was good, Tim said, “but there was not as much cheese as last time.”

I got all defensive. “We were low on cheese, you know it’s expensive,” I said.

“That’s fine, you asked, so I told you.”

I was feeling deflated, at that moment. Dark clouds gathering around my mind, the enemies’ minions whispering, “He’s sick of you already.”

And I’ll tell you something I did not realize then, but I see it now. Maternal voices from my past had already planted the seed, when it was said “I feel sorry for your husband when you get married, you don’t want to do anything the right way.” 

I was not aware those bad seeds had already been planted, leading to my reaction.

I started a fight with Tim. “Well, why can’t you just say thank you, instead of mentioning how much cheese the dinner was lacking?”

“You asked,” He said, “If you don’t want the truth, don’t ask me.”

Let the refining begin, and it certainly did, with or without an invitation.

This is the backdrop of the story, which ends in mutual understanding, acceptance of one another, and grace to grow (up) together in Christ.

The characters in this story are Laura-the sensitive feeler, who needs reassurance she’s not a failure, married to Tim the truth-teller, who refuses to have emotional arguments.

And the refining fire, in this case, happens to be their disagreements about how food ought to be prepared, as well as a few other topics that might get thrown into the mix. 

In the first year of our marriage, as with most people, we were very focused on being extra nice to each other, not always telling the truth, and wanting to keep the euphoric newness of our relationship alive.

 As time went on, as with all marriages, the raw truth of who we really are will come to the surface. Why? Because nobody can pretend forever. I’m not going to write a book that is not honest. I’m not going to tell you if you do A, B and C, you will have a perfect marriage.

Are you ready for this? I dare you not to judge either one of us! Laughing, as I write this.