As a Gen Xer, I remember ours being the first house on our block to get a microwave. My dad lobbied hard for this particular purchase, the only contribution he made to cooking in my parents’ house in nearly fifty years.

I remember him touting the efficiency of this new technology, but my mom, who not only did all the cooking but also worked full time, was disappointed that this giant box caused the food to taste weirdly rubbery. It wasn’t the miracle she was promised. Yes, it cooked faster — but at what cost?

It’s easy to want to trade in the slow simmer of a homemade soup for a microwave lunch or the sacred conversation for a quick text. It’s easy to choose the suburban shortcut instead of the country road. While efficiency has its place, sometimes we miss the deeper joys — like savoring a gorgeous view or a meaningful moment — when we rush ahead.

I was reminded of this recently when we needed a county inspection for some work on our remote property. We live so far out that it takes more than an hour of driving on winding roads through the mountains to get here, something that catches many people by surprise.

Earlier this week, Josh came by to fix work that had previously failed county inspection. From the moment he got out of his truck, he was agitated. “You really live in the middle of absolute nowhere, don’t you?” he said. “I wish you would have told our dispatcher how far out you lived. This is a waste of a day.”

My heart sank. I felt guilty, ashamed — even responsible for his frustration — like I should apologize for where I live, even though their company had been out several times and knew where we lived.

But then Ron, the county inspector, came by to sign off on Josh’s work. He had to make the same drive twice in less than a week — once to fail the work and now to check it again. I immediately apologized. “I’m so sorry you had to come out a second time. I know it’s a long drive.”

Ron’s face broke into a wide grin. “Are you kidding? This is a gorgeous drive. The winding roads, the trees, the mountain views … this is the most beautiful route I get to take. I don’t mind coming out here at all.”

Two men, same road — yet their experiences couldn’t have been more different. Josh looked at the drive as a burden, an inconvenience. Ron saw the exact same trip as an opportunity, a privilege.

As I reflected on their opposite responses, I was struck by how easily we can approach our daily realities in a Josh-like way: focusing on what we “have to do,” or how inconvenienced we are and getting mad when we’re unable to do everything with expediency. But if we switch our thinking — like Ron — something as ordinary as a drive can become a chance to appreciate God’s creation, a moment to linger, to breathe, to see beauty in places others dismiss.

This idea of perspective applies to so many aspects of life — especially when it comes to how we feed ourselves, physically and spiritually. There are days when grabbing a granola bar is the only option; we’re in a hurry, and we just need the fuel. But how often are we forfeiting the deeper nourishment of a slow-cooked meal like soup for the quick fix of whatever is fast and convenient?

Soup requires time and patience. It demands that you simmer the ingredients, allowing the flavors to deepen and the aroma to fill the house. It asks you to linger in the process, trust the heat, and watch as something simple transforms into something comforting and worth the wait. Anticipation grows all day long, and then finally, you feel the gratitude when it is time to eat.

The apostle Paul writes in Philippians 4:11–12 (NIV), “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances… I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation.” This contentment is less about our circumstances — where we live, what annoyances we face — and more about our posture of heart.

What if we treated life more like a simmering pot of soup — savoring and lingering — rather than forcing it into a granola-bar schedule? What if we chose to see the path in front of us, whatever it may be, as an invitation to linger longer with God, notice His handiwork, and trust He is forming something good within us?

You might be facing frustrating tasks or dealing with people who see the “drive” as a burden. But you have the opportunity to view your circumstances through a lens of gratitude and contentment. You can choose the slow-cooked richness of joy and perseverance over the instant gratification of complaint. Like Ron, we can see the beauty in the winding roads.

Inspired to cook a few new soup recipes? Order Kathi’s cookbook, Sabbath Soup: Weekly Menus and Rhythms to Make Space for a Day of Rest.

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