I am beautiful….
I'm beautiful because I am made in the image of God.
I'm beautiful because before the world was created God knew who I would be, when I would be and what I would become.
I'm beautiful because I was born on April 12, 1990 at six pounds, twelve ounces precisely as He ordained me to be.
I'm beautiful because I have been given unique abilities and talents.
I'm beautiful because in me is a mind that God crafted with His own hands so that I can think on His majesty and greatness.
I'm beautiful because I'm little yet empowered by the strength of God to do things bigger than man can fathom.
I'm beautiful because I have a heart that was fashioned to seek and yearn for God.
I'm beautiful because I was created with a purpose that is all my own.
I'm beautiful because there is truly not another person on this earth just like me. I'm a one-of-a kind. I'm uniquely me. To the rest of the world I may look like an alien. I'm small…shockingly so. My weight, or lack of, provoke eyes to stare, to gawk and look upon me with sideways glances. But that's okay.
What those people don't know is what is going on inside. They don't know about the MS and the battle for my health that has taken place over the past four years. They don't know the taxing ordeal my body has been through and that's okay. I can't blame them. They simply are unaware that I'm a different kind of beautiful than they're used to seeing on the covers of magazines. I don't fit their glossy ideal of what an ideal woman should look like.
Perhaps I was created to be Christ's kind of beautiful, not the world's.
On days when it seems that all I receive are anything but adoring eyes all I need to do is smile and remind myself that the world doesn't measure beauty by God's standards, but I do. My kind of beautiful is the kind of beauty created by the hand of God for His pleasure and for His glory. I may not be what this world considers beautiful, but if God smiles down on me then I know I'm beautiful in the eyes that matter most, my all-suffieicent creator and lover of my soul. To Him I am beautiful and that will always be enough.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
The Refining Fire
Fire does one of two things. It refines or it destroys. Just
as there are two types of fire, there are two starters of fires. The fire that
refines is lit by God, the fire that destroys is lit by the devil himself. It
may seem as though you and I have no control over who sets our fires and who
controls them, but that is not the case. You and I have much more control over
the fires in our lives than we often give ourselves credit for. We are not
helpless victims in the middle of a burning building. We can choose to be
consumed by a destructive fire or we can choose to become a piece of ceramic in
the midst of the blaze, made more beautiful by the heat of the kiln.
This morning my Mom and I wandered down to a farmer’s market
just down the road from where we are staying in Hilton Head Island. I was
expecting to find an array of luscious vegetables. I was surprised to see that
this particular farmer’s market boasted more local artisans than it did local
produce. Booths were lined up in rows selling lotions, butters, relishes,
purses, paintings, and, my personal weakness, handcrafted ceramic coffee mugs.
I’m a sucker for interesting mugs. I have a ridiculously large collection of
them but that doesn’t stop me from buying more of them, especially on vacation.
I rationalize that they are my souvenir of choice (the truth is I have a lot of
souvenirs of choice).
Well today I did some more rationalizing and some more
unnecessary purchasing by picking out a beautifully, hand crafted blue mug with
a special handle perfect for grasping to sip on a warm cup of morning coffee.
This mug has me looking forward to tomorrow morning at seven AM when I will
pour myself a cup of black coffee with no cream and no sugar (I’m hardcore).
As I was turning the cup upside down and all around, taking
in the intricacies of its design and feeling its perfect curves in the grip of
my hand I was reminded of the refining fire. Without it my mug would never
reached this level of perfection. The glossy finish would have been
unattainable. The glaze could have been applied but without the heat it would
have never change its chemical structure to attain the lustrous blue that
caught my eye. The process of being under heat caused the chemicals in the clay
and the paint to meld together to create a perfectly glassy finish. Paint alone
couldn’t create this beauty. It needed the heat of the kiln. It needed to be
refined by fire.
Just like me.
All of the greatest of intentions and abundance of knowledge
won’t change me or mold me until I am put under fire. It is under the pressure
of heat that I can become more than what I am now. I can be refined, molded,
shaped and enhanced. Even the greatest of paint and fanciest of materials won’t
do me any good unless some heat is applied. It is the kilns of life that bring
about the most remarkable beauty.
There are bound to be days, months, and years in life where
we feel like the heat is turned up to unbearable temperatures. This is when we
have a choice: let it refine or let it destroy.
God can make that heat into a kiln. He can use it to refine
but we must let Him.
I want to be like that mug I bought this morning. When I get
under heat I want to become better, more beautiful, more breathtaking. I don’t
want to crack or crumble in the heat of my fire. I want to get into God’s kiln,
let Him turn up the hat and see what design He has in mind especially for me.
The choice is mine and the choice is ours. Who’s setting our
fires? Who’s controlling their temperatures? Most importantly, what are we
letting those fires do to our lives? Dear Reader, let God set your fires,
control the blaze and create something beautiful under the pressure of high
heat. Let the Lord refine you by fire.
Isaiah 48:10
Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Armor against doubts
There is nothing that the devil loves more than when God's children doubt their heavenly Father. It is music to satan's ears. When doubts arise he knows that he has that little wandering soul right where he wants it, on shaky ground, sinking fast into the depths of a dark, faithless place.
If you've been a Christ follower for more than a moment, or maybe even just a moment, then chances are you've experienced what I'll call, "the dangerous doubts." They come in all forms of questions and concerns…. Does God hear me when I pray? Does God have an actual plan for my life? Is there a Heaven? Will God take care of my loved ones? And here's one that hits a bit too close to home, was I created fearfully and wonderfully like the Bible tells me so?
I will admit to my fair share of doubts. Not only have I had doubts but I've rationalized them, too. It's easy to do when you are in physical suffering and ill health. I've made the excuse that of course I have doubts, how could I not when my body is on the fritz, reducing my physical capabilities and causing me real suffering? My internal dialogue goes something like this, "I have every right to doubt God. Anyone would if they were in my shoes, physically speaking. In fact, it makes sense for me to doubt."
This dialogue can go on for quite some time. All the while satan only grows happier and happier, knowing that with each gripe, complaint and concern I am drifting farther and farther away from the security and foundation of the Lord. With every passing moment of apprehension I sink deeper in despair and deeper into the evil depths of the devil's darkness.
Dear reader, if you find yourself in a place of doubt this morning I urge you to flee that dangerous trap. Rid yourself of the doubt that threatens to pull you away from your all-loving and all-knowing Savior and get back to the basics of God's goodness.
Recognize that as the Bible warns, you are in a battle. Satan has his weapons and they aren't so secret - doubts, questions, concerns and worries are just a few of his favorites. He wields them with wild abandon. Without proper protection you and I run the risk of getting struck and taken down. Thankfully we have our own weapons and a suit of armor that, if we choose to wear, will protect us from every sling, arrow and bullet the devil will throw our way.
When I am overcome with doubts I turn back to Ephesians 6:11-18 and I am immediately reminded that those feelings are nothing more than a weapon of my enemy. They are not of God. They are tricks meant to bring me down and overtake me. But God has given me a weapon of my own. It is scripture and it is truth. I can stand on the rock of God's authoritative scripture and know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I know it full well because in Psalm 139:14 God told me that very word!
The scriptures are protection and security for you and me. They are words of unshakable truth and abundant life. His words are armor against the lies of the devil.
The devil will throw doubts on you, I can guarantee that. He is out to steal and destroy and his number one targets are the lovers of Christ. The good news is that you and I are not ill-equipped to handle the onslaught. We are soldiers in the greatest army ever gathered. We fight for the mightiest King that has ever and will ever reign. Doubts may come but they are no match for the armor of the Lord. He will always protect, always defend and always win in the battle for His beloved children.
If you've been a Christ follower for more than a moment, or maybe even just a moment, then chances are you've experienced what I'll call, "the dangerous doubts." They come in all forms of questions and concerns…. Does God hear me when I pray? Does God have an actual plan for my life? Is there a Heaven? Will God take care of my loved ones? And here's one that hits a bit too close to home, was I created fearfully and wonderfully like the Bible tells me so?
I will admit to my fair share of doubts. Not only have I had doubts but I've rationalized them, too. It's easy to do when you are in physical suffering and ill health. I've made the excuse that of course I have doubts, how could I not when my body is on the fritz, reducing my physical capabilities and causing me real suffering? My internal dialogue goes something like this, "I have every right to doubt God. Anyone would if they were in my shoes, physically speaking. In fact, it makes sense for me to doubt."
This dialogue can go on for quite some time. All the while satan only grows happier and happier, knowing that with each gripe, complaint and concern I am drifting farther and farther away from the security and foundation of the Lord. With every passing moment of apprehension I sink deeper in despair and deeper into the evil depths of the devil's darkness.
Dear reader, if you find yourself in a place of doubt this morning I urge you to flee that dangerous trap. Rid yourself of the doubt that threatens to pull you away from your all-loving and all-knowing Savior and get back to the basics of God's goodness.
Recognize that as the Bible warns, you are in a battle. Satan has his weapons and they aren't so secret - doubts, questions, concerns and worries are just a few of his favorites. He wields them with wild abandon. Without proper protection you and I run the risk of getting struck and taken down. Thankfully we have our own weapons and a suit of armor that, if we choose to wear, will protect us from every sling, arrow and bullet the devil will throw our way.
When I am overcome with doubts I turn back to Ephesians 6:11-18 and I am immediately reminded that those feelings are nothing more than a weapon of my enemy. They are not of God. They are tricks meant to bring me down and overtake me. But God has given me a weapon of my own. It is scripture and it is truth. I can stand on the rock of God's authoritative scripture and know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I know it full well because in Psalm 139:14 God told me that very word!
The scriptures are protection and security for you and me. They are words of unshakable truth and abundant life. His words are armor against the lies of the devil.
The devil will throw doubts on you, I can guarantee that. He is out to steal and destroy and his number one targets are the lovers of Christ. The good news is that you and I are not ill-equipped to handle the onslaught. We are soldiers in the greatest army ever gathered. We fight for the mightiest King that has ever and will ever reign. Doubts may come but they are no match for the armor of the Lord. He will always protect, always defend and always win in the battle for His beloved children.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Yes, I truly am on the fritz
It's been a long time coming…or at least that's how it's felt.
Four years have passed since I've been able to explain the ups and downs of my body. There have been more downs than ups and more questions than answers. It started with weight and didn't end there. Digestion, numbness, muscle spasms and, most recently, spotty vision and patches of blur that have left me concerned and frantic for answers.
Finally answers have arrived.
A brain MRI confirmed my suspicion: multiple sclerosis.
This suspicion has been lingering in my mind for the last six months ever since I heard the voice of God speak this very diagnosis into my car on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I wasn't praying or even seeking God at that very moment. I was singing along to the tune of a song in my car when all of a sudden God spoke simply and clearly, "It's M.S." Ever since then I have believed that what God spoke was true and that, in His time, there would be confirmation. Sure enough, the MRI results showed visually what God had spoken audibly.
On the face of it the diagnosis of MS sounds devastating. MS is associated with all sorts of limitations, classically the loss of vision and loss of mobility. The prognosis appears grim with no "cure" and just a lot of management techniques. Despite all of the doom and gloom associated with MS, since receiving the picture of lesions and demyelinating sheath in my brain I've felt overwhelming relief. Odd as it may sound finding these spots has given me a peace that I was desperate to receive.
Over the course of the past four years I've felt like I was going crazy, as if my symptoms were "all in my head." Well, they have been in my head - literally. I haven't been imagining these symptoms or making up my ailments. The evidence has been found and the images have proven my case. My brain is very much on the fritz!
In a strange way knowing I have MS has given me a renewed strength. I made it. I survived these past four years of confusion and questions. The struggle didn't ruin me, it grew me. God remained faithful the entire time and He never stopped carrying me even on the roughest of days.
On the morning that I received the results from my MRI I read Psalm 30. When I read it I had no idea how true those words would ring for me in just a few short hours. In Psalm 30:1-3 David wrote, "I will exalt you, Lord, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me. You, Lord, brought me up from the realm of the dead; you spared me from going down to the pit."
That is truly what the Lord did for me. I was floundering and struggling under the weight of an undiagnosed condition that I couldn't control or understand. But God didn't leave me there. He sustained me even when my faith was weak and tiny as a mustard seed. When I was fatigued and worn out He breathed into me His limitless energy and vitality so that I could face another day. He spared me from the depths of the pit of the unknown that weighed so heavily on my heart, mind and body.
In my limited scope of time the four year long wait felt endless but to God it was just a blink of an eye. Although difficult and trying, these four years have been a sculpting tool God has used to mold me into a more patient and enduring child who trusts wholeheartedly in her Father.
This morning I am thanking God for giving me an answer to my questions and a diagnosis that I can understand and make sense of. Now I can begin the journey of regaining my health and experiencing the healing God has in store for me. As I go forward into my new life of healing and wellbeing I am doing so on the strength and power of God, believing wholeheartedly that the future He has for me is one of good health.
To follow my journey post-diagnosis follow me on http://bakingonthefritz.blogspot.com!
To follow my journey post-diagnosis follow me on http://bakingonthefritz.blogspot.com!
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
A devastating donut distaster
It all started with a Wilton 6-Cavity Donut Pan and some very good, albeit naive, intentions.
I tried to make homemade donuts. Tried being the key word. Online I'd seen countless recipes and reviews raving about the texture, consistency, flavor and downright divine goodness of the oven baked donut. The recipes didn't seem all that challenging. The hardest part of the whole process was finding a donut pan but a trip to a local (and quirky) cooking supply shop remedied that problem. All it took was a twenty minute drive and a twenty dollar bill and I was in possession of my very own Wilton Donut Pan, plus a mini-donut pan perfect for making mini-donuts for little hands and little tummies.
The next morning after purchasing my new equipment I went to work on the donuts. I chose a vanilla cinnamon sugar cake donut made with flour, buttermilk, melted butter, sugar and some other essentials like baking powder, vanilla extract and salt. The pictures looked promising. For a topping I chose a recipe that promised the perfect classic maple glaze. With my oven preheated, ingredients placed on the counter and donut pans greased I felt more than prepared for the task at hand.
I followed the recipe precisely, making sure to heed the warnings about over beating the batter and not scorching the butter. I felt quite pleased with my progress. The batter looked just like the picture!
I poured the batter into my prepared pan and was again pleased to see that it looked just like the picture!
Then I stuck my creations into the oven and waited exactly seventeen minutes, just like the recipe said. Then I turned on the light of the oven to peer in on my tantalizing baked creations. And suddenly I was not so pleased. They looked nothing like the picture. My confectionary creations looked like small rubbery tires. They were pale with not even a hint of the golden brown I was promised in the recipe's description. The pleasing cinnamon scent I was greatly anticipating was barely detectable. I opened the oven, pulled out my pan and sunk into further disappointment. When I poked the donuts they didn't feel the least bit fluffy. They were hard and tough. Without even having to take a bite I knew they were bound to be the chewiest "cake" donuts ever baked at three hundred and fifty degrees.
I stuck them back in the oven for a few minutes. The donuts were already a disaster I knew that but I was hoping that with a few more minutes at a high heat a golden brown might appear on the tops of my lousy donuts. But no luck. A few minutes later the donuts still looked the same.
Reluctantly, my Mom did the difficult deed of taste testing the so-called donuts. Her face said it all. These were not donuts at all. They were tasteless, dense balls of dough cooked for twenty minutes. In no culinary universe could these tire-like substances be called "donuts."
The verdict on the vanilla cinnamon sugar donut was in and it was two thumbs down plus an "eww." At first I was disappointed. I had been excited to bake donuts in my nifty donut pan! The tray was so cute and the pictures on blogs and websites were so promising, but the result was nothing like the pictures. My donuts were nothing like the descriptions written by bakers and reviews written by tasters.
My donuts were a big fat flop.
The amount of waste that was in those tasteless, rubbery tires made my stomach sick! I had put in an hour trying to follow every step of the recipe to perfection. Now all I was left with was a bag full of hard cooked dough and a sink full of messy bowls. The disastrous donuts made me want to return my cute little pan and write scathing reviews on all baked donut recipes posted online!
But then something came over me. A small little voice said, "try again…" I looked at my counter full of ingredients and sink full of dishes, took a deep breath and headed back to the computer. I searched again for "baked donuts" and found another recipe with more reviews and more promises of a mind-blowing treat sure to please the whole family. With low expectations I set out to bake again.
I measured out my flour, sugar and even browned butter this time around. I once again followed the directions to a T, taking my time to double check amounts and the order of each step.
I cleaned out my donut pan, re-greased the cute little tins and re-filled them with donut dough #2.
I popped them in the oven and waited eight minutes - the new "perfect" amount of time for baked donuts when baked at three hundred and fifty degrees.
After eight minutes I pulled them from the oven and you want to know what happened?
I pulled out six pale, rubbery tires someone claimed would be "donuts."
So far my donut baking escapade has been less than appetizing. "Stephanie's Donut Shop" is not about to be the next hot-spot to pick up a morning box of America's favorite doughy breakfast treat. But I can tell you this much, I'm not giving up.
Sometimes in life the creation we bake up isn't always what we had anticipated. We put in certain ingredients, hoping for a desirable outcome and instead we end up with life's version of tasteless, colorless balls of dough. The let down is huge. Instead of a great treat we have a great big mess to clean up. The temptation to give up and never try again is overwhelming.
Failure, when given the chance, will lead to giving up. But it doesn't have to. Like Thomas Edison with the light-bulb, you and I can choose to keep trying even in the face of failure. Edison had thousands of patents on inventions that never turned the world upside down or the lights on in anyone's kitchen but he didn't stop trying. Eventually his determination paid off for him and certainly for you and I. Thanks to his overcoming spirit you and I have the ease of simply turning a switch and turning on light.
I still don't have the ability to put ingredients together, fill my donut pan, bake for X amount of minutes and pull out a culinary creation that pleases the palate, but that doesn't mean I won't someday. Mark my words dear reader (and maybe dear donut lover) someday I will bake perfectly golden brown vanilla cake donuts with maple glaze. Maybe not tomorrow but someday. I'll keep trying till I find the right recipe, the right temperature and the right time because I'm not a quitter. I will simply keep baking.
I tried to make homemade donuts. Tried being the key word. Online I'd seen countless recipes and reviews raving about the texture, consistency, flavor and downright divine goodness of the oven baked donut. The recipes didn't seem all that challenging. The hardest part of the whole process was finding a donut pan but a trip to a local (and quirky) cooking supply shop remedied that problem. All it took was a twenty minute drive and a twenty dollar bill and I was in possession of my very own Wilton Donut Pan, plus a mini-donut pan perfect for making mini-donuts for little hands and little tummies.
The next morning after purchasing my new equipment I went to work on the donuts. I chose a vanilla cinnamon sugar cake donut made with flour, buttermilk, melted butter, sugar and some other essentials like baking powder, vanilla extract and salt. The pictures looked promising. For a topping I chose a recipe that promised the perfect classic maple glaze. With my oven preheated, ingredients placed on the counter and donut pans greased I felt more than prepared for the task at hand.
I followed the recipe precisely, making sure to heed the warnings about over beating the batter and not scorching the butter. I felt quite pleased with my progress. The batter looked just like the picture!
I poured the batter into my prepared pan and was again pleased to see that it looked just like the picture!
Then I stuck my creations into the oven and waited exactly seventeen minutes, just like the recipe said. Then I turned on the light of the oven to peer in on my tantalizing baked creations. And suddenly I was not so pleased. They looked nothing like the picture. My confectionary creations looked like small rubbery tires. They were pale with not even a hint of the golden brown I was promised in the recipe's description. The pleasing cinnamon scent I was greatly anticipating was barely detectable. I opened the oven, pulled out my pan and sunk into further disappointment. When I poked the donuts they didn't feel the least bit fluffy. They were hard and tough. Without even having to take a bite I knew they were bound to be the chewiest "cake" donuts ever baked at three hundred and fifty degrees.
I stuck them back in the oven for a few minutes. The donuts were already a disaster I knew that but I was hoping that with a few more minutes at a high heat a golden brown might appear on the tops of my lousy donuts. But no luck. A few minutes later the donuts still looked the same.
Reluctantly, my Mom did the difficult deed of taste testing the so-called donuts. Her face said it all. These were not donuts at all. They were tasteless, dense balls of dough cooked for twenty minutes. In no culinary universe could these tire-like substances be called "donuts."
The verdict on the vanilla cinnamon sugar donut was in and it was two thumbs down plus an "eww." At first I was disappointed. I had been excited to bake donuts in my nifty donut pan! The tray was so cute and the pictures on blogs and websites were so promising, but the result was nothing like the pictures. My donuts were nothing like the descriptions written by bakers and reviews written by tasters.
My donuts were a big fat flop.
The amount of waste that was in those tasteless, rubbery tires made my stomach sick! I had put in an hour trying to follow every step of the recipe to perfection. Now all I was left with was a bag full of hard cooked dough and a sink full of messy bowls. The disastrous donuts made me want to return my cute little pan and write scathing reviews on all baked donut recipes posted online!
But then something came over me. A small little voice said, "try again…" I looked at my counter full of ingredients and sink full of dishes, took a deep breath and headed back to the computer. I searched again for "baked donuts" and found another recipe with more reviews and more promises of a mind-blowing treat sure to please the whole family. With low expectations I set out to bake again.
I measured out my flour, sugar and even browned butter this time around. I once again followed the directions to a T, taking my time to double check amounts and the order of each step.
I cleaned out my donut pan, re-greased the cute little tins and re-filled them with donut dough #2.
I popped them in the oven and waited eight minutes - the new "perfect" amount of time for baked donuts when baked at three hundred and fifty degrees.
After eight minutes I pulled them from the oven and you want to know what happened?
I pulled out six pale, rubbery tires someone claimed would be "donuts."
So far my donut baking escapade has been less than appetizing. "Stephanie's Donut Shop" is not about to be the next hot-spot to pick up a morning box of America's favorite doughy breakfast treat. But I can tell you this much, I'm not giving up.
Sometimes in life the creation we bake up isn't always what we had anticipated. We put in certain ingredients, hoping for a desirable outcome and instead we end up with life's version of tasteless, colorless balls of dough. The let down is huge. Instead of a great treat we have a great big mess to clean up. The temptation to give up and never try again is overwhelming.
Failure, when given the chance, will lead to giving up. But it doesn't have to. Like Thomas Edison with the light-bulb, you and I can choose to keep trying even in the face of failure. Edison had thousands of patents on inventions that never turned the world upside down or the lights on in anyone's kitchen but he didn't stop trying. Eventually his determination paid off for him and certainly for you and I. Thanks to his overcoming spirit you and I have the ease of simply turning a switch and turning on light.
I still don't have the ability to put ingredients together, fill my donut pan, bake for X amount of minutes and pull out a culinary creation that pleases the palate, but that doesn't mean I won't someday. Mark my words dear reader (and maybe dear donut lover) someday I will bake perfectly golden brown vanilla cake donuts with maple glaze. Maybe not tomorrow but someday. I'll keep trying till I find the right recipe, the right temperature and the right time because I'm not a quitter. I will simply keep baking.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Baking up a blessing
I have been MIA.
For those of you who read this blog this is not a news flash. My writings and ramblings have grown few and far between. My one to two a-day blog posts have been reduced to nothing more than crickets. I would like to say that this absence was a planned hiatus but that is not the case. My dry spell of prolific words came without warning and struck me with such great force I didn't even have the desire to write a "taking a break from writing" post to alert the blogosphere of my impending absence. Instead, I just dropped off the radar screen altogether.
But not forever, I hope, because I've missed my daily random ramblings that sometimes were deep and other times just an outlet for pent-up frustrations. And let's face it, who doesn't have some inner frustrations and rants they'd like to post online for the world (or maybe just one single soul) to see? The world of blogging is perfect for such thoughts. It gives the thinker the chance to blow off some steam and gives the sympathetic reader reassurance that they are not the only one in the universe to share their particular frustrations and feelings.
During my blog hiatus (I'll call it that, as if it were planned, even though you all know it was certainly not) I missed this chance to be real with an audience, no matter how small that audience might be. For all I know it might be an audience of just my Mom reading my posts for grammatical errors. Or maybe it will end up being a complete stranger in another country who happens upon my words while Google searching and mindlessly clicking. I don't know who reads these words, but I know that as the writer of them there is a therapy in putting the feelings of my heart on paper or should I say, on screen.
So, why the absence if I enjoy writing so much? I wasn't in the hospital or on an exotic cruise to a location devoid of internet access or a 3G network. I simply didn't have the stamina to keep airing my feelings. The feelings have been there, trust me, feelings don't fade. But my energy to think on them, explain them and work through them went kaput. I got tired. The thoughts still rattled around in my head, blog post titles even came to mind a time or two, but I simply couldn't find the stamina to sit down and type out all that was on my mind.
So I just started baking instead.
Odd as it may seem, the girl who doesn't eat sugar and hasn't had a cookie in four years, has been baking… a lot. Daily to be exact. It started with brownie sundaes for the kids. For some reason I got the itch to cook something for them. I checked the cabinets and came up short on every type of mix. A stroke of can-do spirit took over and I embarked on baking from scratch. And so I looked at the ingredients we had on hand, narrowed down my confectionary options and landed on brownies. After a quick Google search I landed on the "Mmmm… brownies" from "All Recipes" and went to work.
An hour later a sink full of dishes with a shockingly minuscule amount of crumbs was all that remained after my culinary adventure.
The brownies were a success.
So the next day I tried again. This time I went back to an old standard, the oatmeal cookie. I added some walnuts and chocolate chips, baked at 350 and hand delivered a plate full of treats to my favorite house full of kids (and chocolate loving adults). And once again, the plate was cleared in record time.
Over the course of the next few days I baked up peanut butter chocolate chip cookie bars, double chocolate no-bake cookies, banana bread and a multi-color funfetti cookie cake!
I've never bought so much sugar, butter and heavy cream in my life.
And I'm just getting started.
I've caught the baking bug. There is something therapeutic about baking. You put together certain ingredients in a certain order in certain amounts, bake at a certain temperature and, voila! a certain creation is born! The whole process is one with ordered steps and a sequence that is understandable. I can read the directions and choose whether or not to follow them. I can measure to particular lines on particular cups. I can check to see when my sugary mix is still baking or reached its perfect level of golden brown. Baking promises that by following a given recipe you will get a proven, tested result.
When I pull the sugary confection from the oven, apply icing or sprinkles or just deliver with a tall glass of milk, there is pleasure and delight on the face of the recipient. The kids bite into their favorite treat with excitement. My Mom, the quintessential cookie-lover, lets out an audible "yum." The simple combination of ingredients brings with it an abundance of blessings from the very first bite.
From that first night in the kitchen with a hot saucepan of melted semi-sweet chocolate and a bowl of flour, I've been hooked on baking for the people I love and cherish. I've found that I can spread a little joy by spreading a little icing, creaming a little butter and baking up a little something sweet.
Not only does this new found love of baking bless my beloved family, but it has been a therapeutic release for me, too. When I'm standing in the kitchen, moving about between bags of ingredients and bottles of extracts, I'm not thinking about myself, my trials or my struggles. All I'm thinking about is what I'm baking. I'm focused on creating something that will bring a smile to the face of someone else.
From the world of blogging to the world of baking I've found that at different stages in life there's different places and different ways to release the feelings and emotions of the heart. For years now I've let all of mine spill out onto the world wide web. As therapeutic as that can be it can also be an overly self-involved practice. The blogs are my thoughts, my feelings. Do you sense a theme? It's all about me, me, me.
But baking has turned me outward. Baking isn't about me at all - I don't even taste test, that's the beauty of having a dessert loving Mom, she does that job for me. Baking has taken my focus off of my own selfish thoughts, desires and struggles. It's taken my gaze and pointed it outward, directly onto the lives and taste buds of the people I love deeply. By baking, the worries of this life are put on the back burner. In fact, they are taken off the stove altogether. Instead, my focus is placed solely on what blessing I'll be baking up next.
Baking up a funfetti cookie cake blessing! Recipe below.
For those of you who read this blog this is not a news flash. My writings and ramblings have grown few and far between. My one to two a-day blog posts have been reduced to nothing more than crickets. I would like to say that this absence was a planned hiatus but that is not the case. My dry spell of prolific words came without warning and struck me with such great force I didn't even have the desire to write a "taking a break from writing" post to alert the blogosphere of my impending absence. Instead, I just dropped off the radar screen altogether.
But not forever, I hope, because I've missed my daily random ramblings that sometimes were deep and other times just an outlet for pent-up frustrations. And let's face it, who doesn't have some inner frustrations and rants they'd like to post online for the world (or maybe just one single soul) to see? The world of blogging is perfect for such thoughts. It gives the thinker the chance to blow off some steam and gives the sympathetic reader reassurance that they are not the only one in the universe to share their particular frustrations and feelings.
During my blog hiatus (I'll call it that, as if it were planned, even though you all know it was certainly not) I missed this chance to be real with an audience, no matter how small that audience might be. For all I know it might be an audience of just my Mom reading my posts for grammatical errors. Or maybe it will end up being a complete stranger in another country who happens upon my words while Google searching and mindlessly clicking. I don't know who reads these words, but I know that as the writer of them there is a therapy in putting the feelings of my heart on paper or should I say, on screen.
So, why the absence if I enjoy writing so much? I wasn't in the hospital or on an exotic cruise to a location devoid of internet access or a 3G network. I simply didn't have the stamina to keep airing my feelings. The feelings have been there, trust me, feelings don't fade. But my energy to think on them, explain them and work through them went kaput. I got tired. The thoughts still rattled around in my head, blog post titles even came to mind a time or two, but I simply couldn't find the stamina to sit down and type out all that was on my mind.
So I just started baking instead.
Odd as it may seem, the girl who doesn't eat sugar and hasn't had a cookie in four years, has been baking… a lot. Daily to be exact. It started with brownie sundaes for the kids. For some reason I got the itch to cook something for them. I checked the cabinets and came up short on every type of mix. A stroke of can-do spirit took over and I embarked on baking from scratch. And so I looked at the ingredients we had on hand, narrowed down my confectionary options and landed on brownies. After a quick Google search I landed on the "Mmmm… brownies" from "All Recipes" and went to work.
An hour later a sink full of dishes with a shockingly minuscule amount of crumbs was all that remained after my culinary adventure.
The brownies were a success.
So the next day I tried again. This time I went back to an old standard, the oatmeal cookie. I added some walnuts and chocolate chips, baked at 350 and hand delivered a plate full of treats to my favorite house full of kids (and chocolate loving adults). And once again, the plate was cleared in record time.
Over the course of the next few days I baked up peanut butter chocolate chip cookie bars, double chocolate no-bake cookies, banana bread and a multi-color funfetti cookie cake!
I've never bought so much sugar, butter and heavy cream in my life.
And I'm just getting started.
I've caught the baking bug. There is something therapeutic about baking. You put together certain ingredients in a certain order in certain amounts, bake at a certain temperature and, voila! a certain creation is born! The whole process is one with ordered steps and a sequence that is understandable. I can read the directions and choose whether or not to follow them. I can measure to particular lines on particular cups. I can check to see when my sugary mix is still baking or reached its perfect level of golden brown. Baking promises that by following a given recipe you will get a proven, tested result.
When I pull the sugary confection from the oven, apply icing or sprinkles or just deliver with a tall glass of milk, there is pleasure and delight on the face of the recipient. The kids bite into their favorite treat with excitement. My Mom, the quintessential cookie-lover, lets out an audible "yum." The simple combination of ingredients brings with it an abundance of blessings from the very first bite.
From that first night in the kitchen with a hot saucepan of melted semi-sweet chocolate and a bowl of flour, I've been hooked on baking for the people I love and cherish. I've found that I can spread a little joy by spreading a little icing, creaming a little butter and baking up a little something sweet.
Not only does this new found love of baking bless my beloved family, but it has been a therapeutic release for me, too. When I'm standing in the kitchen, moving about between bags of ingredients and bottles of extracts, I'm not thinking about myself, my trials or my struggles. All I'm thinking about is what I'm baking. I'm focused on creating something that will bring a smile to the face of someone else.
From the world of blogging to the world of baking I've found that at different stages in life there's different places and different ways to release the feelings and emotions of the heart. For years now I've let all of mine spill out onto the world wide web. As therapeutic as that can be it can also be an overly self-involved practice. The blogs are my thoughts, my feelings. Do you sense a theme? It's all about me, me, me.
But baking has turned me outward. Baking isn't about me at all - I don't even taste test, that's the beauty of having a dessert loving Mom, she does that job for me. Baking has taken my focus off of my own selfish thoughts, desires and struggles. It's taken my gaze and pointed it outward, directly onto the lives and taste buds of the people I love deeply. By baking, the worries of this life are put on the back burner. In fact, they are taken off the stove altogether. Instead, my focus is placed solely on what blessing I'll be baking up next.
Baking up a funfetti cookie cake blessing! Recipe below.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
A surrey and a smile
At the Peninsula in Erie there are a variety of ways to get out and enjoy the beauty of the lake and the unspoiled joys of nature. Running, kayaking, beach-bumming and biking are just a few of the options available to the outdoorsy one who wants a day out enjoying God's green earth. If none of those activities sound like your cup of tea might I suggest another more enticing excursion for your trip to the Peninsula?
A surrey with the fringe on top.
For a security deposit and hourly fee you, my friend, can go cruising down the bike paths of the beautiful Lake Erie Peninsula. Bring your friends because this buggy is made for sharing! The front can hold a few little passengers whose legs are too short to pedal. The bench seats (you can get your surrey with multiple rows!) may be a little on the flat side but you won't mind the lack of cushioning when you're laughing with your friends. Bumps will throw you into fits of laughter and steering is sure to be a comical experience.
But most of all on your surrey adventure your legs are sure to get a workout. Every incline will feel like a mountain even if it is only a 1% incline. Let's just say that a surrey isn't made for off-roading and certainly not mountain climbing. Stick to the well paved path and even then you'll experience a stretching of your endurance and muscular capability.
I was reminded of the challenge the surrey provides while running yesterday along the path. Up in the distance I saw a slow moving surrey. Their speed would have made an inch worm's crawl look like a sprint. They moved so slowly the fringes on the surrey barely even swayed.
As I approached the surrey I expected to see a couple of exasperated parents struggling under the weight of a cumbersome, oversized bike and a couple of ride-along children. But what I found when I surveyed the faces of the pedaling parents was not frustration, angst or even weariness. What I saw was joy. I saw nothing but smiles.
The small incline that surrey had to climb was nothing monumental but it was still producing a challenge, yet the peddlers kept an attitude of pleasure and joy even in the midst of their struggle. Their legs were suffering but their spirits were not. They just kept pedaling, kept laughing and kept enjoying the adventure of a ride down the path of the Peninsula.
At first the scene didn't strike me as anything unusual. After all it was a beautiful day for a ride and a little fringe goes a long was in making even a tiresome trip a fun one. Thinking back on that little scene I now see something in it that I didn't see at first: how I should live as a long-sufferer.
At times in life the inclines we must climb look overwhelmingly steep. Our legs grow tired, the humidity leaves us breathless and the weight feels like far too much to bear. We suffer and we suffer for what feels like an agonizingly long time. This can produce in the peddler, the one doing the suffering, like cruel torture and cause for dissatisfaction and despondency. But by looking on at a few parents peddling their children at the Peninsula I was reminded that long-suffering doesn't have to be and shouldn't be the cause for angst or grief. It should be faced with a smile and accepted with a joyful spirit.
This life of mine, and your's too, is a ride on a path ordained by God. We get the opportunity to jump on the surrey and ride along. But rider beware, there will be inclines, there will be bumps and sometimes the seat will feel terribly uncomfortable.
Let me encourage you to take heart and hold on, because this ride can be fun! Mount your surrey with a smile, embrace the bumps, and push up every incline with a joyful spirit. You and I may suffer for what feels like forever. I suppose that's why it's called long-suffering. But while we suffer, even though it may be long, you and I can do so wearing a smile because we know that we're on an excursion with our Creator, Father and King who has planned for us a great adventure on His great path called life.
A surrey with the fringe on top.
For a security deposit and hourly fee you, my friend, can go cruising down the bike paths of the beautiful Lake Erie Peninsula. Bring your friends because this buggy is made for sharing! The front can hold a few little passengers whose legs are too short to pedal. The bench seats (you can get your surrey with multiple rows!) may be a little on the flat side but you won't mind the lack of cushioning when you're laughing with your friends. Bumps will throw you into fits of laughter and steering is sure to be a comical experience.
But most of all on your surrey adventure your legs are sure to get a workout. Every incline will feel like a mountain even if it is only a 1% incline. Let's just say that a surrey isn't made for off-roading and certainly not mountain climbing. Stick to the well paved path and even then you'll experience a stretching of your endurance and muscular capability.
I was reminded of the challenge the surrey provides while running yesterday along the path. Up in the distance I saw a slow moving surrey. Their speed would have made an inch worm's crawl look like a sprint. They moved so slowly the fringes on the surrey barely even swayed.
As I approached the surrey I expected to see a couple of exasperated parents struggling under the weight of a cumbersome, oversized bike and a couple of ride-along children. But what I found when I surveyed the faces of the pedaling parents was not frustration, angst or even weariness. What I saw was joy. I saw nothing but smiles.
The small incline that surrey had to climb was nothing monumental but it was still producing a challenge, yet the peddlers kept an attitude of pleasure and joy even in the midst of their struggle. Their legs were suffering but their spirits were not. They just kept pedaling, kept laughing and kept enjoying the adventure of a ride down the path of the Peninsula.
At first the scene didn't strike me as anything unusual. After all it was a beautiful day for a ride and a little fringe goes a long was in making even a tiresome trip a fun one. Thinking back on that little scene I now see something in it that I didn't see at first: how I should live as a long-sufferer.
At times in life the inclines we must climb look overwhelmingly steep. Our legs grow tired, the humidity leaves us breathless and the weight feels like far too much to bear. We suffer and we suffer for what feels like an agonizingly long time. This can produce in the peddler, the one doing the suffering, like cruel torture and cause for dissatisfaction and despondency. But by looking on at a few parents peddling their children at the Peninsula I was reminded that long-suffering doesn't have to be and shouldn't be the cause for angst or grief. It should be faced with a smile and accepted with a joyful spirit.
This life of mine, and your's too, is a ride on a path ordained by God. We get the opportunity to jump on the surrey and ride along. But rider beware, there will be inclines, there will be bumps and sometimes the seat will feel terribly uncomfortable.
Let me encourage you to take heart and hold on, because this ride can be fun! Mount your surrey with a smile, embrace the bumps, and push up every incline with a joyful spirit. You and I may suffer for what feels like forever. I suppose that's why it's called long-suffering. But while we suffer, even though it may be long, you and I can do so wearing a smile because we know that we're on an excursion with our Creator, Father and King who has planned for us a great adventure on His great path called life.
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