The Enchilada Story

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Life Group Fam!

{I’m sure Jesus had quite a kick sitting at our table for the enchilada story. Somehow I always knew Mexican food was His favorite.}

We all have that “go-to” embarrassing story, an appropriate story we share when it’s our turn during an icebreaker game in a room full of friends and people we barely know. My favorite one to resort to is “When I was six at Disneyland…” Sometimes I think I am being sneaky by mentioning only the Disneyland story, but my close friends know me too well and will almost immediately say “But what about the enchilada story?” with a smirk on their faces. If I had a dollar for every time this has happened, I’d be a millionaire. There is no way to escape sharing this really embarrassing story, especially when all of them laugh like hyenas and anyone that is clueless is dying to know. So here it is guys, the Enchilada Story, the story I never seemed to have lived down.

There were exactly two weeks left of my freshman year at Southern and I decided to make enchiladas for a vespers with my friends. The plan was to make the enchiladas Thursday night and serve them for dinner at the Life Group vespers Friday night. Hassel-free task right? Or so I thought…

10:30pm, Thursday night- After my roommate and I arrived back from a trip to the grocery store, I hiked up the three flights of stairs of the dormitory to meet up with a friend. My friend had fearlessly agreed to help me complete Mission Impossible: make 70 enchiladas in one night. We set up our stations in the kitchen and began cooking. Agent Double 07 ’s assignment was to make green enchiladas and mine was to make the red enchiladas.

11:30 pm- Later that evening, my friend and I had reached our halfway mark and took a small break. I turned off the burner on my side of the stove and sat down at the table. Because my friend forgot to turn off the burner on her side of the stove, some of the green sauce started to burn a little. We immediately turned off the stove and opened the window. After fanning some of the smoke out of the kitchen it still smelled bad so I opened the door to the lobby.

12:00 am- “Enchilada 67, 68, 69, 70!” I exclaimed to my friend as I finished heating up the rest of the tortillas on the hot skillet (70 enchiladas because you all know how much college guys eat). We were finally done and sat down at the table to celebrate. That’s weird, it kind of smells like… WHY DO I SMELL SMOKE!? I sprinted to the stove to see that my side of the burner was still on and there was a lot of steam rising from the skillet. No fire, just steam and smoke. My friend and I grabbed the skillet and put it by the window, fanning the smoke frantically. A few minutes passed and we thought everything was fine, until the fire alarm started ringing…

12:30 am- There I was, outside the girls dormitory freezing cold and worrying if everyone would find out all at once. To this day, I am thankful that it was dark outside to hide my guilty face, especially as I stood by my two friends. On my left side, one friend says “Why would someone be cooking at 12 o’clock at night?!” while my other friend on the right side of me says “Yeah, it’s ridiculous!” I mumbled in agreement, “I know right, who’d be in their right mind to cook so late?” Eventually the head dean announced that there was no fire and it was safe to return inside the dormitory. Okay good, I thought as I walked back to my room, these sleep-deprived girls won’t stone me alive tonight.

Long story short, my friend and I returned to our rooms and then to the scene of the crime where our 70 enchiladas were neatly stacked in casserole dishes. We explained to the deans what had happened and thankfully, they extended grace along with some practical cooking tips.

The story doesn’t end there though.

On Friday evening, all ten of my friends are sitting around the dinner table at my “adoptive family’s” house for the LG vespers. While waiting for the enchiladas to heat up, we had played some icebreakers outside. Three icebreaker games later, we were finally eating the enchiladas.

Hopefully the story stays a secret… “So girls, were these enchiladas worth the fire drill last night?” asks my friend with a grin on his face (he had heard about the story earlier from a previous conversation). The girls at the table stared blankly at the enchiladas processing his comment while my two friends that I was sitting between stared at me intensely (these were the same two friends that were standing by me during the fire drill). “It was YOU???” they said at the same exact time. They took another bite of their enchiladas and then said, “Yep, they were worth it.” ☺ [That, my friends, is forgiveness.} PHEW… Almost simultaneously, everyone bursts into laughter, including me, and all of us at the table- friends and adoptive family- laughed for a good five to ten minutes.

Along with the dinner story time, the night was unforgettable. After dinner, our group walked outside into the crisp air and gathered around the circle of chairs that were set up on the backyard patio. We sang campfire songs, laughed for days, played the “yarn ball compliment game”, and participated in “With this rag, I want Jesus to use me to…” I’ve never experienced a worship so special before where everyone shared something so raw and personal. Our group had started out as friends and now we were family, a family willing to share our struggles and lift each other up. A few tears later, we ended with a hug-line. While we were singing the last song, it started to sprinkle gently on us and I glanced up at the twinkling lights of the canopy and gazed higher up at the stars. As time seemed to freeze, I thought Let me never forget beautiful moments like this Jesus- enchiladas, friends, laughter, tears and all.

I’m sure Jesus had quite a kick sitting at our table for the enchilada story. Somehow I always knew Mexican food was His favorite. Thankful that my God loves to laugh! He is so good and so personal. He laughs with us; He cries with us, He loves us.

“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…” (Ecclesiastes 3:4)

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Food Network Image: If any of you were wondering, the enchildas were not burnt. 😊

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“Move to the Truth”, one of many icebreaker games that we played at Life Group

6 thoughts on “The Enchilada Story

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