ICE CREAM

ICE CREAM

The gaggle of youngsters who run through my house know there are treats in the freezer. They ask for what they want, which may or may not be there. When it isn’t, they ask, “What kind of ice cream do you have?” Which got me thinking: What do I know about ice cream? Turns out, more than I thought—and somewhere between the freezer door and those eager little faces, God stirred up buried memories.

Ice cream can be loved and desired yet not tolerated. Some prefer plain vanilla, others prefer nuts, and still others fruit flavors. As a child, I knew only vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, Neapolitan, black walnut, and butter pecan. Since then, flavors have multiplied exponentially—from sweet to seafood and meat oddities, comfort-food crossovers to spicy and pungent options. The flavors have changed, but the basics have not: ice cream is still churned from sugar and milk with a fat content of at least ten percent. Maybe people are not so different. We come in different flavors, with different textures, temperaments, and tolerances, but each of us is still made with purpose by the same loving Creator.

But what do I know about ice cream? Growing up, homemade ice cream was a labor of love: milk and sugar packed in salt and ice, churned for what felt like forever. My first experience with commercial ice cream came from the soda fountain at the local Rexall Drugstore, where I could stand, order, and hand my quarter to the clerk—but I was not allowed because of my color to sit and enjoy that scoop on a cake cone. Even then, there were places where sweetness was offered with limits. I also know that when my favorite nine-year-old recently wanted ice cream at the mall, the price of one scoop could have bought a half gallon at the grocery store. She did not get a scoop. Some lessons are spiritual; some are economic.

What do I know about ice cream? I know there are plenty of frozen concoctions sold masquerading as ice cream. If the fat content falls below ten percent, it becomes ice milk, often labeled low-fat, light, or reduced-fat ice cream. Frozen custard adds egg yolks. Sherbet contains less than two percent milkfat, and sorbet contains no dairy at all. Gelato has more milkfat than sherbet but less than ice cream and is churned slowly. I will not even mention the ways it can be eaten. You get it. Now, you may be wondering why I am writing about it.

Ice cream left in my freezer brings no joy to me or to the youngsters parading through our house. It simply occupies space. We were born to do more than occupy space. Life, like ice cream, is meant to be mixed and churned—shaped by pressure, sweetened by grace, disturbed by different flavors, fruits, and yes, even a few nuts—and then shared in a multitude of ways. We were not created to stay sealed away in fear, comfort, or convenience. And sometimes, life is not ice cream at all. It is frozen yogurt. Grace is learning to serve what you have been given anyway.

Whatever form you take, unless you are out of the freezer, your sweet, savory, or pungent self is of no use to you or to those around you. Your gifts are not meant to be preserved until they are perfect; they are meant to be scooped up and shared while there is still time. And we all know what happens to ice cream left too long in the freezer.

Ephesians 2:10

PONDER THIS: Life is like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.