Pressure cookers, hissy fits and the Presence of God

The sound track for meal preparation in my childhood includes the rhythmical hissing of the release valve of the pressure cooker rocking away gently. As a mother who worked full time outside the home, mama needed all the labor saving devices she could find and the pressure cooker was a mainstay in our kitchen. Not only did it cook meat and vegetables quickly, it was a time saver for canning. We had a large pressure cooker that canned 10 pints or 7 quarts of anything all at the same time, and in half the time it took with a water bath. The smaller pressure cooker was used for meal preparation. Each pressure cooker had a different style pressure release valve that sang its own distinctive song when in use. You could judge whether the heat was high enough or too high by the speed of the valve song. If it was too agitated, you needed to turn the heat down so the cooker wouldn’t explode. Rural myth was replete with stories of friends and neighbors and family members who had to scrape peas or corn or beef roast off the ceiling when a neglected pressure cooker blew its top.
One summer our family and my cousin Lorene took a camping vacation across the country to Colorado. Daddy built a camper for his red pickup truck. It had jalousy windows on the sides (important in those pre-air conditioning days), a bedspring mounted above and folding lawn chairs in the back for us to sit in. Meals were prepared across country by my mother (not much of a vacation for her) at various campsites. Somewhere in the midwest I remember mama cooking chicken and rice over a fire in a grill using the pressure cooker.
My hissy fits are, like the pressure cookers, a controlled release of built up steam. Sometimes it is more controlled than others but rarely are they a full blown explosion that sends my lid flying to the ceiling. Mama remembers getting mad at me because I wouldn’t get mad as a child. Some of that is, I think, a natural predisposition. My maternal grandfather was an easy going gentle soul who rarely expressed anger of any kind. And, some of it was learned as a reaction to my father’s often unpredictable expression of anger. Anger could be dangerous and hurtful so I learned to avoid and cope.
I’ve been thinking this week about the connections between anger and God in my life. I have never been angry with God. I have been angry when death or illness have come out of season for those I love. I have screamed in rage watching a friend die by inches with ALS, living with the aftermath of my sister’s suicide or because unnecessary war killed my husband. That anger has been directed at the human condition, our fallibility, our vulnerability, our lack of control of the universe but never at God. I cannot hold God accountable for the natural order of this world.
I am, in my old age, learning the lesson my mother tried to teach me years ago, how to be angry. Anger can be my guide to a deeper understanding of myself and others as well as a path to God. For me, anger turned inward leads to separation and depression. Anger named and claimed clears my internal space whether I ever speak the anger or not. Sometimes all I need to do is acknowledge its presence and let it go. It also helps that I have a friend with whom I have a reciprocal agreement. We can call each other at any time of the night or day and bitch, moan and groan, carry on and let it fly, whatever we need to do, however we need to do it. There are no judgements or helpful suggestions for anger management, just a listening ear. Often these calls end in laughter as we acknowledge the absurdity of our angers but we always feel heard and affirmed in our righteous indignation.
And in the quiet clarity that comes after the pressure valve is released, I hear the voice of God saying, “O.K. So now what?” I make changes or I let go, I give thanks for that which tips me over the edge because it is often part of a gift I have received. Giving thanks for the anger and its cause transforms me as I am able to see more than my feelings of the moment. Hissy fits... a possibility for God showing up in my life... pressure cookers that keep my life cooking and creating... all a part of God’s presence in my life and I am grateful.