We’re never too old to learn new tricks, though the first few tries might feel a bit clunky. My life story is one of learning as I live – and for the past 4 decades I’ve lived in a very busy home. If you share your space with a neurodivergent person, you understand the pace. Instead of pausing during the busyness, I simply kept doing what I’d always done, only to end up more frustrated than ever.
During one of these frustrated lows, a nasty cold caught up with me. Honestly, who feels like cooking when the can barely breathe? Following the cold, a heavy tiredness set in. It seems the older I get; the more recovery takes out of me. Throughout this season, I realized my “system” wasn’t working for anyone – not even me!
I told my husband I need to step back and re-evaluate the kitchen work. He gave me a simple, supportive “ok”.
Consequently, life went on. When I looked up yesterday I realize I hadn’t cooked or baked in two weeks! Remarkably, the only complaints filed at the empty oven were from the cats and dog.
The Legacy of the Simple Breakfast
That’s just it. My frustration wasn’t just about a head cold; it was about unlearning a “standard” I’d picked up along the way that wasn’t actually mine.
I started thinking about my own mother. She was vivacious, full of life, and the light of the room – but she was not a morning person. Our childhood breakfast was a bowl of cereal. If you were still hungry? You could have a piece of toast. That was the boundary, and you know what? We were fine. We felt deeply loved.
Rather than exhausting herself at the stove, Mom prioritized her own quiet mornings. Consequently, she traded a hot breakfast for something far more valuable: the stamina to actually engage with us until the sun went down.
In my neurodivergent family, meals don’t always follow a timeline. Meals are frequently simple affairs. And meals out are more than food, they are about everyone relaxing, being together, sharing stories and just being family. If my loving husband could have his way, I would only do what I wanted to do, and he works really hard -in very creative ways- to make that happen.
If you are the anchor of your own nucleus of divergent family, I have one message.
Lean into it!
The Peace of the Empty Oven
I think my mom understood something about Philippians 4 that I’m just catching up to. She knew that “letting your reasonableness be known to all” sometimes looks like a bowl of Corn Flakes and a side of toast. It’s the reasonable choice when you know your limits.
Philippians 4:5 Let your reasonableness be known to all men. The Lord is near.
The LORD is near – not just in the big, organized moments, but in the “frustrated lows” and the two-week breaks from the stove. When we stop being anxious about the “standards” of a perfect home and instead bring our exhaustion to Him with thanksgiving, something shifts.
Philippians 4:6-7 Be anxious about nothing, but in everything by prayer and by petition with thanksgivings, let your requests be made known to God: and the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
The empty oven isn’t a sign of failure; it’s a sign of a heart that has chosen peace over performance.
God says we are not failures either, we are just what He’s waiting for!
Philippians 4: 8 For the rest, brothers, whatever is true, whatever honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever lovely, whatever of good report, if of any virtue, and if of any praise, think on these things.
By shifting my focus, I’ve started to see these virtues in the quietest corners of my kitchen
- I recognize the truth that my family remains fed and deeply loved, even without a hot meal.
- I cherish the lovely sight of my husband’s creative support as he helps me protect my peace.
- Furthermore, I find a good report in choosing morning mercy over a rigid to-do list.
As we practice these things – these active choses toward peace – we discover the God of peace standing right there with us. He is present in the middle of a messy, divergent, cereal-eating life.
The “Fresh Face” Mercy
As a final thought, choosing “Cereal and Toast” doesn’t just save my sanity – it saves my skin. Instead of standing over a steaming pot of potatoes until my pores give up, I’m using those extra fifteen minutes to actually follow my own beauty advice.
By prioritizing my peace, I finally have the energy to reach for that moisturizing cleanser rather than just crashing into bed with a face full of “housewife fatigue”. Consequently, I’m heading into this Easter season feeling a lot more like my vivacious mother and a lot less like a burnt piece of toast.
After all, mercy is new ever morning – and it usually looks better when you’ve had a moment to put on some moisturizer.
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