Clive Staples??

Although this was not my original intention, it has been brought to my mind by a dear friend that I should lead a little "book discussion" on this here blog about the great Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis.

This time last year I was reading it for the first time and loved it so much I did a lot of underlining.

Have any of you read it? I am sure.
Even if I don't do a little outline of it, read it.
It will change your life.

So I don't know. I am contemplating it.
Maybe I should post some quibs about Screwtape and the Dear Wormwood.
If any of you are tremendously opposed to a few little thoughts, comment.
Or don't comment.
Whichever suits you best to show your dislike.

We shall see.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers.

Build your house.

I love houses.

Proverbs 14:1 The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish woman tears it down with her own hands.

* I read this verse the other night and attempted to think on it as I was falling asleep. I was successful in sleeping, not so much in thinking. But I came across it this morning again. What an odd little verse.

I was praying, “Lord, how do I build my house when I don’t OWN a house? When I am something of a ‘renter’?”

I felt him say to me, “Let me ask you this. Is a house made up of mortar and bricks and tile, or is it made up of the people who live in it?”

In the study Bible section it pointed me back a couple chapters to Proverbs 9, and the first few verses read something like this:

“Wisdom has built her house; she has hewn her seven pillars. She has prepared her animals and mixed her wine; she has also set her table. She has sent out her young women to call from the highest places, ‘Whoever is simple, let him turn in here!’ To him who lacks sense she says, ‘Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Leave your simple ways and live, and walk in the way of insight.’”

So then, all things considered, is a house made up of wood and nails, or of the people that live in it?

I think this verse definitely goes to show that the house of the wise is filled with people who have abandoned their simple ways. After all, isn’t that what the lady in ch. 9 was asking for? “Come to my house, and get rid of your simple ways.”

Do you ever feel like your ways are simple? Like you are just kind of walking through without seeing anything?  

Also in Proverbs is this picture of Lady Wisdom herself who goes to the head of busy streets, full of people who are bustling about. People coming from somewhere. Going somewhere. She sees all of their to and fro and cries out to them saying, “How long will you simple people love your simple ways?!!”

Simple ways? Aren’t they busy? Aren’t their days scheduled in huge binders and thoroughly thought out?

Yes.

And their well laid plans are simple ways.

All of their well laid plans don’t mean anything.

If simple ways are something to be thrown away, something that doesn’t belong in the house of the wise, and houses are comprised by the people who reside there, then what kind of “house” is built by the wise woman? How can I build my “house” before I own four walls?

By becoming a woman who shatters the illusion of living a life of simple ways.

Is being a wise “house” builder someone who lives on purpose?

I was driving somewhere yesterday, thinking about how many unfortunate outfits I saw at the grocery store that morning, and thought, “Goodness sakes. Get dressed on purpose, people.”

I kind of laughed at the blunt thought that crossed my mind, but then wondered what life would be like if I got dressed on purpose every morning?

What I am going to say is very strange, and will not make sense to probably the majority of you, but clothes are a spiritual experience for me.

I know. I know.

I will go further.

There have been times in my life where I have seen some fabulously dressed woman and have learned more about the character of God than I have from some sermons. Something about it just made switches turn on in my head.

I know. I know.

Back to the question. What if I got dressed on purpose every morning? Surely I am not the only person in the world who views clothes like I do. And what if I intentionally get dressed for THAT ONE PERSON I might see that day who will be blessed by my white trench coat?

Maybe this is pushing the envelope.

But what about if you went to the store on purpose and talked to your clerk as the cash register on purpose? Or the tenant who rents land from you? Or your FedEx driver?

What if your house was a house void of simple ways?

I want mine to be. Regardless of whether I own the roof over my head.

The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish woman tears hers down with her own hands.

Flowerpalooza.Mania.Carnivale.

This morning a floral designer friend of mine was involved in a bridal show and I said I would come take some pictures of her fabulous wares.

Check them out. They will make you scream.

This one is so impressive in person and this picture absolutely does not do it justice. It stands—I’m not kidding---like five feet tall.

Check out the BLUE!!!

Carnations. Calla lilies. Tulips. Where do I sign?

This is so fun.

So fun.

I have never seen gold orchids before. Excellent for Fall!

Very British antique-y. And seriously. CARNATIONS!!!

Blue Thistles! Leave it to God to make a weed gorgeous.

The closest thing to a Ranunculus humans could make is tissue paper. Doesn't hold a candle. Naturally. Because Ranunculi are supernatural.

There is no way some untested, so called "Theory of Evolution" could produce this. Trust me, I am into fashion and layers don't just happen. They get put there.

Look at those dead branches! This is pretty much the closest thing to a woman the flower world can design: Dry bones covered with living beauty decked out in jewels and baubles.

Not your mama's topiary:

The Mania. Palooza. Carnivale. Let it ensue.

And which of you by being anxious can add one hour to your life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the flowers of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown in tot he fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious about anything saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Matthew 6:27-34

There is never enough time.

On New Year’s morning I was having breakfast with some of my best girls and we were chatting and giggling away like usual.

 The topic came up of if we had any New Year’s resolutions. All of us said no, apart from being more intentional with our time—spending our “off the clock” hours doing what is actually valuable and not giving into the ensuing exhaustion produced by our “on the clock” hours. One of the girls told a story about someone they knew who got married, and then was such a bored newly wed that all she did all day was clean the house, or something else of some less substantial value. We were spare to the situation, not having ever imagined that feeling was possible; to be given an allotted amount of time and finding yourself without ideas of how to spend that time?

Never.

I had a hard time comprehending not knowing what to do, remembering back to the times when I was in school and would have a month-long Christmas break, scrambling every day because of this overtaking fear that THERE WAS NOT ENOUGH TIME!! The list of things I had wanted to accomplish grew bounds every day and all the while my eyes would get bigger and bigger with this frantic energy which would then make me so overstimulated I would become practically incapable of movement. Then I would sit and watch all of the Ocean’s movies instead of doing anything else. I didn’t know where to start.

Blast.

Needless to say, almost nothing ever got done and I would say, “Well, summer is coming.”

Give me a break.

I was roaming the world every summer. There was no time for anything else.

Those friends who would say, “Oh my gosh! Christmas break lasts forever! I just can’t wait to get back to school,” I could never relate to. I probably dismissed some relationships over that fact; we just didn’t have anything in common.

This problem has not gone away with the dismissal of school. It’s gotten worse. No one told me what it was like being an adult. You have to be at jobs for like 8 + hours a day. ARE YOU SERIOUS?? When in the world do you have time to live? To do the things you love? To do the things that energize you!?

There was this woman speaker on PBS when I was in high school. She must have been a psychologist of sorts and was talking about people who classify themselves as “scanners.” They usually have great ideas…thousands a day... but sometimes don’t complete those projects when they are doing them…because they got another great idea and have to do it NOW. To a certain extent I would classify myself as a scanner. The subjunctive form. The one who looks at something and says, “Do you know what we could do with that!?” But I have pretty good follow-through so I am not 100% scanner.

All this considered, if I had endless amounts of money I would own a warehouse. In that warehouse would be rows and rows of tables. I would be able to sew on one table, and weave on another, and solder on another and on and on and on—completing all those great ideas. While I am waiting for that to happen, though, I will be intentional with the limited time that I have to do all kinds of crazy things using the supplies that I’ve got.

I will admit, though, there is still a panic in my mind. It still makes my eyes bulge a little. I can’t see a documentary on the animal planet without looking at airfare to Addis Ababa, being so overcome by how interesting the life of an Ibex is, and fearing that I MAY NEVER SEE ONE! Or I can’t go to a museum without becoming convinced that one thing my life is missing is the ability to sculpt marble. Seeing a car on the road makes me want to become a taillight designer for BMW. I mean, there is just so much to do on this planet and so many topics give me an unnatural curiosity!

This wonderful friend of mine, who is also very curious, says, “For people like me there is never enough time. I will never live long enough to do all I want to do.” So true. So true. For those who are creative and curious, there is never enough time.

Is it any shock, then, that the only thing that makes me breathe a sigh of relief is that eternity lasts FOREVER? For the believer in Jesus Christ, there is no greater comfort. I have to smile; upon my death I will finally have enough time. And can you imagine what all kinds of perfect and fabulous things there will be to do in Heaven?!? If I think there is stuff to do here, well…whoa…..give me 80 years and I will be singing a different tune.

The nagging of not enough time should be an obvious representation that this world is NOT it. In the words of some fabulous chef somewhere, “Save your spoon darlin’, the best is yet to come.”

Viva la!

I have been to Paris.

But Paris was not the first place I had crepes.

I had crepes in Chicago for the first time. In an apartment. Of friends of my parents. From that day on that was it; I loved them.

The first ones I had were filled with some wonderful creamy seafood mixture which was, as just stated, wonderful.

Upon returning to my parent’s house (for I was still in high school), I was delighted, although not surprised, to find that my mother possessed a cookbook entitled, “You can do anything with crepes.”

Now how many of you have cookbooks that obscure? Probably not most. My mother would though, and she still does, to this day (because it hasn’t somehow yet fallen into one of my tote bags as I was vacating her house).

Contrary to popular opinion, crepes are really quite easy to prepare. They became a staple of mine when I was still at home. We would entertain weekly and for sure I did them probably once a month. Maybe that’s excessive. Or an exaggeration. Or an excessive exaggeration. But I made them a good amount and the people partaking always raved.

You can fill them with anything. Sweet, savory, meat, dessert, whatever.

I was at my parent’s home this weekend and we had the masses over to see me, so naturally I made crepes.

Without further ado, here is a little story of how French culinary favorites get transported to the Midwest.

I would also like to add that the guests we typically have over are not easily impressed. This weekend was no exception. Accomplished chefs, all. Even discriminating tastes had to be obliged by this fare.

Ok. For real this time.

“Without further ado,” here is an education for your taste buds.

Crepes are a basic recipe, comprised primarily of flour, salt and sugar.

If the recipe ever calls for dry ingredients to be sifted, I know I will get flack for saying it, but I have ever only done this:

This is the flour canister we had at my house while growing up, where it still resides, and was also the one my mom had in her house when she was growing up.

I think it's brilliant. Brilliant enough to make it on the list with Dutch Ovens, espresso machines, and whisks.

Note that these are HOME GROWN EGGS.

Look at that color! Yolks like that don’t come from the store, kids.

And the size disparity! Love it!

Now the batter is going to be very thin. Much thinner than a pancake.

And what kind of pan you use is important. Keep in mind that the crepe will become whatever the size of pan it is.

For crepes I like to use a non-stick, probably 8 inch, pan, sprayed in between each crepe.

I call the technique for crepes the “swirl-tastic 3098,” which pretty much consists of pouring a ladle full of batter into the middle of the pan, picking up the pan, and swirling the batter all around to create a very thin coat over the whole flat surface of the pan.

I wish I had pictures for you, but, you got to be fast to swirl, so alas, no picture.

Once the basic crepe is done you can put anything in it. For my entertaining purposes I like to do both a sweet and a savory, just so my guests can choose.

This weekend for my Savory selection, because it was over the brunch hour I filled them with some delicious scrambled eggs, as well as some garlic mushrooms. I would have also included caramelized onions but was without the onions.

I then did a little drizzle of a béchamel sauce (which is a fancy Italian way of saying butter, flour, and milk…with a little nutmeg and pepper) inside the crepe, as well as on top, and then garnished with sautéed green peppers.

Delicious.

For my sweet chicks, they got caramelized apples in a vanilla yogurt, cinnamon cream sauce topped with whipped cream and a drizzle of honey.

While I am on a roll, I will say that I have done crepes for dessert. Go ahead and scoop out some vanilla ice cream and then freeze the ice cream balls so that they are hard. Put those inside of the hot crepes and top with hot fudge, strawberries, and powdered sugar. I had this in Austria one night and flew right home to try it out on some most willing guinea-pig friends. Literally, I got on a plane straight away from dinner and flew home to make these.

That’s not actually true.

If you like the banana and chocolate combo, quickly sauté some banana slices in melted butter and put those on top of the ice cream, then roll up, then hot fudge.

Crepes are delicious and I love them. But the reason I made the crepes, well, I love that more: coffee with best girlfriends.

Being with them is like coming home.

Oh taste and see that the Lord is good.

Crepes:

1 ½ c. flour

1 t. sugar

1/8^th t. salt

3 eggs

1 ½ c. milk

2 T. melted butter or oil

Sift together flour, sugar, and salt. Crack in the three eggs and mix. Batter will probably be lumpy. Pour in the milk and whisk, whisk, whisk! You want to batter to stop being lumpy J

Drizzle in the butter and whisk again.

Voila! That is the batter.

Heat a medium sized skillet on medium heat and spritz with cooking spray. Pour a ladle full (probably ¼ to ½ cup) of the batter into pan and twirl the pan so that the bottom is evenly coated with batter.

When the edges roll back a little, or you are able to move it with a spatula without tearing it, flip it over for just enough time to cook.

They are done and they should be soft and lovely with gold speckles or a soft gold color all over.

Fill with whatever your heart desires!!

Bon Appetit!

Viva la Crepe!!!

Let Them Eat...Gravy.

I was given this book by a dear friend for Christmas.

 



And it is delightful.

And yes, it is called “How to cook a wolf.”

Written during WWII by apparently MFK Fisher, it is somewhat of an anthology about food with some very good, eye-opening recipes and tips in it…along with huge doses of underlining-worthy hilarity.

And it is delightful.

Yes, I just said that twice.

This year my food tastes have changed DRASTICALLY.

Up to this point in my personal history there has only been one real time in my life when they have changed this much.

Ok. That’s not entirely true.

Let me say something different.

Never before have my food tastes changed this much. Once before have my food habits changed this much.

That was a miracle.

This is simply preference.

But now I am getting more preferences than I ever thought I would. Oh gosh. My tongue is becoming high maintenance.

So the short version of my story with food speedily goes something like this: Jesus once took this girl who didn’t eat, and he introduced her to himself. Years passed. And now she eats. And for a while she ate a lot. Too much. Of things that she realized she didn’t even like! And now it seems that He is telling her what she actually DOES like to eat, and therefore should probably not waste her time eating other things. What a novel concept! Only eat things you like! The end.

Ha.

When my crazy busy summer planning an ungodly amount of parties (see the picture of the pretty wedding?)

 was finally over, I wrote this little ditty one night after eating a bowl of gravy and LOVING it and eating a piece of wedding cake and saying, “Meh”:

Well.

It’s decided.

After a long weekend of being in charge of 1 party and 4 weddings I have finally decided and am entirely convinced:

I prefer gravy to cake.

It has come at a bit of a blow to my personal notions of how I always thought I viewed food. I was always a most willing subject. Trying anything---which I still will do---, never refusing homemade bread and jelly---which I still won’t---, declaring with all gusto, “I LOVE CILANTRO!!”---which I still yell---, and always,  always taking a piece of cake---which now I won’t.

*Tear.

But alas. For the sake of my taste buds and my no-need-to-increase-in-size backside, I will now say, “No, I don’t really care for most desserts. Sugar is a dumb food. It takes no thought to recognize sugar. Sweet is just sweet.”

I know, I know. This goes against the masses.

But my tongue is thanking me. It needs more of an education at dinner.

Store-bought cookies will never again suffice.

~~~~

Here is why I feel that way: The main thing I have decided and that is different for me is I prefer savory foods to sweet foods. This is why I say that: If you are craving something sweet, almost anything will do. Your tongue recognizes sugar pretty much right away. It can be candy or fruity tasting gems, or chocolate, whatever, just so long as it has SUGAR. If it’s got sugar, in an instant you know it. And are thereby satisfied.

However, savory food usually requires a little more thought. There have been numerous times where I have had a savory food in my mouth, closed my eyes, and had to say, “What in the world is in my mouth!?” before I understood it. Savory foods also tend to be a little more complex or interesting. A lot of times there are many layers of flavor to savory foods. When it comes to dessert, if it ever comes to that, I am starting to forego basic sweet items in preference to something interesting and still DELICIOUS.

I have also decided I want to say “No” to nominal desserts with high calories so that when something grand comes with REALLY high calories I can justify gorging myself.

J

I’m kidding.

Kind of.

It’s hard for me to believe it has come to this, but the longer I go on the more and more convinced I have become.

Remember how I said I was doing this December-long detox? Yeah, well I did, and now I am ruined for anything else to eat at lunch! The other day work was crazy busy, so when a pizza finally arrived at 4 pm I was thrilled, expecting the feeling that always used to encircle me upon the first bite.

But nothing came.

And then I took another bite.

And nothing came…except for another piece.

And then another.

And then I just had to make myself stop because three pieces of pizza is ridiculous and I don’t care that it had been 9 hours since breakfast.

The worst part was I then had to succumb to the terrible gnawing in my stomach that I had just consumed 1500 calories in 5 minutes and didn’t feel like I had eaten anything.

Why? Because pizza is fluff. Pizza does not satisfy. Pizza is like idolatry: the reason it works is because it doesn’t work and it produces in you an unavoidable need to keep going back to fill up that hole that is your stomach and that pit that is your daily need of vitamin intake.

Was that a run-on sentence?

What I am trying to say is NOT that I think pizza is bad. No, no, no. No no no no no. What I am saying is that 8 months ago I would have loved that lunch of pizza.

But now? I suckered myself into feeling a need for much more difficultly prepared fare.

Detox has ruined me. Eating appetizers and desserts at 106 parties this summer has ruined me. My appetite for such things has been removed.

That cookbook is also enforcing my new-fangled concepts on food.

What really is this world coming to?

Can a girl not live her life with biscuits uninterrupted?

Apparently not.

Here’s to the new normal.

Of Fleeting Days and Endless Eternities.

There comes a time in every girl’s life when she must ask herself what truly is important to her. Then she must proceed to ask herself if she is spending her life on those things.

Of course at the beginning of one year I naturally think on the last one. All the places I have gone, the people I have met, the stories that will be stored away as some of my “good ones,” the hurts I have trudged through, the new relationships, the new ways of thinking or eating or packing a suitcase or doing my hair or an endless list of what-have-yous. All the things that comprise a year. Is anyone else amazed at just how much a year can change things?

I still haven’t figured out whether greatness happens all at once or whether it is a slow progression over time, but one thing I do know is that most of the big things in life happen all at once...and you usually never saw them coming.

In looking back to where I was 365 days ago I NEVER would have thought that I would have been the places this year that I was, meeting the people I did, or now having the relationships that I do and being surprised by how quickly they have developed.

There is a tendency for me to get morose that 2011 is over (or whatever year has just ended---I can easily be morose), the same way I feel upon finishing a fantastic book. Kind of a let down, if I am being honest. Sentimental is probably not the top descriptor that people would use for me, but sometimes I shock myself by how much random things can affect me in such a sentimental way, or how moved I am by the swiftness of life.

At least I am not alone. David prayed, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may have a heart of wisdom,” (Psalm 90:12).  I think David got the answer that the heart of wisdom that comes from knowing fleeting days produces a gratitude for the faithfulness of the Lord. I mean, why does God love us? In the scope of time our life on this planet is but a breath, a fading flower. Why does he love us? Why is he not a Deistic God that set the world in motion and then stepped back? Why does he care about my day? Why does he care about my sometimes morose feelings? The answer of course is while our life lived here on this planet will be over before we know it, WE will not be over.

One of my favorite verses in the Bible comes at the end of the book of Jonah. God has sent this rebellious prophet to the city of Nineveh, to warn them that their sin will soon be bringing their swift end unless they repent and turn. Most of you know what happens next: he goes the opposite way, gets swallowed by a large fish after being thrown off his ship, gets spit up exactly where God wanted him in the first place, and then finally gets the message to the people. Sounds all hunky-dorie at this point, but then he gets all attitudey and is angry that God has compassion on these lost people. In the height of all of Jonah’s seemingly-ridiculousness he has the audacity to say to God, “I am angry enough to die!!” What strikes me the most is God’s response back to his hissy-fit. “Jonah, you have been concerned about things that make no difference in this world, but this city has 120,000 people who cannot tell their right hand from their left. Should I not be concerned?”

SHOULD I NOT BE CONCERNED?????

Do you think he should not be concerned? Let me just say this: If life ended when you die, he should not be concerned.

God loves us because when we die, that is not our end. This collection of fast moving years is just the start of a never-ending reality. And he wants the rest of our eternity to be spent with him.

Knowing the truth of fleeting days is supposed to lead your mind to the magnitude of endless eternities.

In light of our “littleness” is it not the most beautiful thing that God hasn’t let go yet? That he, the Eternal One, loves the fleeting ones? That he is faithful to the breath-life ones? That he is CONCERNED?!

When I dwell on the faithfulness of God any feelings of morose about my fleeting life fade away. I don’t know what heaven looks like, but I know Jesus is there. And that’s enough. But while I am still here on this earth, if I have any life left to live, I want it to be lived for him. I know I probably sound like a never-ending beating drum, but really, is there any other logical response to his love, his counsel, his faithfulness, then a life lived for HIM as the priority?

Teach me, O Lord, to number the days of 2012. May my lips say over and over again, “Great, O very great, has been your faithfulness.”