You may have already heard about my reconciliation with bananas; I’ve told lots of people just because it’s so exciting to me. In case you haven’t heard though, let me explain.
I’ve never liked bananas. When I was little, I tried very hard to like them. They’re a uniquely wonderful fruit—happily yellow and satisfyingly peel-covered. So intense was my dislike that up until last fall, I had only peeled a banana once to my memory.
At the Frisco debate tournament last November, Kathryn and I were talking about bananas and my sad lack of banana peeling experience. From that point on, she made my day by allowing me to peel all of her bananas. Kathryn is a very wonderful person.
In Singapore, one day. I tried a banana. I liked the banana. Ecstatic doesn’t quite cover this new discovery. Joyful, maybe? Peeling [and eating] bananas is now one of my new favorite hobbies.
I’ve changed a lot since I was little, and in some cases I didn’t even know I’ve changed. Eating was once a dangerous occupation fraught with untold dangers. After all, I detested:
- Cinnamon
- Mangos
- Bananas
- Potatoes
- Lettuce
- Fish (other than Salmon)
- Mayonnaise
- Spinach
- Jelly
- Peanut butter
- Wheat bread
- Beans
- Tomatoes
- Butter
- Cheese
- Corn
- Bananas
- Milk
- The list of foods I hated but now like (or am learning to like) goes on….
Sometimes I get very sick and tired of being myself. Certain weaknesses and personality traits make me want to just run until somehow or other, I leave myself behind. As much as I want to escape myself at times, losing my identity is my single greatest fear. And yet, I’m never really the same person for very long, my interests, passions, questions, and tastes in foods are constantly morphing. I guess what I’m trying to say is that because I change so often, as much as I’d like to, I can’t define myself. God doesn’t change, and so He’s the only one who can actually give me an identity. I thank God that I am His and He knows me regardless of whether or not I like bananas.
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