The creator impulse

I love to cook. I'm not talking about throwing together a mix, adding an egg or some chicken to a package of unknown ingredients put together unlovingly by someone in a factory somewhere. I'm talking about sifting the flour, chopping the onion, shaking in the spices, kneading the dough, stirring the batter (generally by hand), and carefully monitoring the sizzling pan or rising loaf. I never thought of this as a particularly spiritual desire. I just like to make things, to see ingredients become a meal (or, for that matter, a seed become a flower or a ball of yarn a sweater).

But was I not knit together in my mother's womb by the original Creator? Was I not made in the image of the creative God? And so my creative impulses become an act of worship, done in homage to the One whose creative nature I echo.