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Return, O my soul, to your rest, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.

          Psalm 116:7

We’ve been cleaning out the basement over a period of several weeks (though we are beginning to creep into the month category).  Our adventure has been unearthing lots of interesting finds; old pictures from our early married days, appliances and trinkets long forgotten, vinyl record albums.  But opening one box brought a most enjoyable and unexpected surprise.  Cookbooks!  Boxed up years ago, acquired probably years before that, these cookbooks go way back.  I even found one from the Aldersgate Retirement Community, where my grandmother once lived.  She served on the Resident Council in 1992, the year the cookbook was published, and had offered many of her wonderful recipes to the book.  I’m glad to have the record.

Some of these cookbooks came to my collection before I was fully grown up, long before I would have imagined that life would see me preaching, cooking or writing.  Some followed along in the years since.  They are all from another part of my life, and they are now all added to my cookbook project. 

Having given this a little thought, these extra cookbooks don’t bother me very much.  Yes, they add to my project list and certainly to my project timeline.  In fact, they add a lot.  At my current rate, this stack of books will keep me going for a decade or so.  I admit that their appearance, at first, gave me a bit of stress.

But it’s okay, actually.  If it is ten or twenty years down the line before I come to the end of my cookbook project that is something I can live with.  I have no deadline.  Frankly, the thought that I will still be around and cooking in a decade or two is more than acceptable, so I welcome this addition to the plan.

I don’t always welcome new items creeping onto my schedule, however.  I have been struggling lately with the more that has been regularly placed on my To Do list.  Serving a new church with familiarity to be gained, and new questions to be understood and addressed, quickly fill many of the hours of the day.  Then here comes fall with the beginning of activities and classes.  Add to that the ever-guilt-laden topic of being a reasonably good mom and a responsible member of my family.  To be honest, I have been feeling rather overwhelmed.

I have also been displaying all the attendant grumpiness and fret that come with feeling so inundated.  My guess is that you have felt this, too.  I am tempted to lock myself away, to bury my head in the laptop.  I stop myself from saying “Leave me alone!” when a friend or parishioner so foolishly wishes me a cheerful “good morning.”  When I begin to feel this way, I know it is time to re-evaluate.  (BTW, friends and parishioners, please never stop giving me cheerful greetings!)

In order to re-evaluate, I have to go back and consider my foundational beliefs.  One of these is that God provides us with enough.  Though it may not seem like it, we have enough time, enough resources, enough sanity to carry us through our challenges.  I believe this.  I preach this.  Now I am challenged to live it.

When I think about the fact that God has given me enough, I have to ask myself why I feel like I don’t have it.  How would I live differently if I believed I had enough?  What could make this reality perception?

This leads me to consider the decisions I make about the use of my time.  Do I order my time wisely?  Am I careful enough in choosing how much I can and can’t do?  Do I re-fuel regularly enough?  Am I willing to take in what is nourishing and strengthening? 

When I think about it hard, I find that the answer to many of these questions is “No.”  And in realizing this, I come to the conclusion that my being or not being overwhelmed is much more within my control than I had realized.  Rather than an inevitable drain, this reality is a decision; a choice that I can make to act in my own – and everyone’s – best interest.

Many of the things I have always heard, and even said, are beginning to grow feet and walk.  I have always heard that I can’t take care of others unless I take care of myself.  What do you know?  It’s true.  Unless I block off and guard the time and the resources that I need, I’m going to be a grumpy green monster to those who rely on me most.  I will become exhausted, disillusioned and angry (and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.)  But if I say No at the proper times, I will have a lot more Yeses to spread around.  If I allow myself what I need, with no apology or begrudging, then I can be who I need to be for myself and for everyone.

To be honest, it still comes as a surprise to hear the word “No” roll out of my mouth.  But I have found, with some surprise, that the universe doesn’t collapse and I am usually able to negotiate a different and happier “OK.”  God has given us enough.  In fact, God has given us abundance.  It is our task to be such stewards of God’s gifts as to benefit everyone.

I am including the recipe below because it is simple and might come in handy if you are feeling overwhelmed and short on time.  I have made it on many occasions.  It comes from the Bass Family and Friends Cookbook, written by a cousin who shares the same disability as my kids.  This is what he was able to make so he shared it, and I am grateful.

Blessed eating!

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

4 slices bread                     2 T fruit preserves or jelly

2 T peanut butter

Spread one side of each of two slices of bread with preserves or jelly.  Spread the other two slices of bread with peanut butter.  Form a sandwich with the peanut butter and jelly in the center.

Meatloaf

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth . . .

              Matthew 10:34

I knew I would have to do it sooner or later.  My Bass Family and Friends Cookbook has three different recipes for meatloaf and it was inevitable that I would have to make one of them.  But I don’t like it.  Meatloaf has never been on my requested foods list.  Not only do I dislike the taste, but meatloaf represents the least exciting food imaginable; the very definition of bland and dull.  Needless to say, I’ve been putting this recipe off.

When I became a pastor, I worried that this vocation would be a lot like eating meatloaf.  Too many people in our world today already think of Christians as being (at best) proper, but dull folks.  Pleasant rule-followers who keep their lawns trimmed and are always on time.  They might get along well with neighborhood associations, but few people can or want to live that way.  These folks are just . . . well . . . bland. 

Christians shouldn’t be that way.  Jesus certainly wasn’t.  Though we sing about “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,” our savior didn’t always make a good neighbor.  He talked to all the wrong people.  (Samaritans for heaven’s sake!  And women!)   And he managed to tick off all the religious leaders so badly that they wanted to kill him.  I think about this every now and then when I’m having coffee with pastor friends.  We could be called the “religious leaders” of our time.  How would we deal with a savior who seemed to bend the rules so badly?

In recent times, Christians have sacrificed their well-being, even their lives, by standing against norms of a broader and more powerful culture.  From South Africa to the American South – and too many places in between – Christians have endured violence and hatred in order to bring about change when the world didn’t reflect what God intended for us.  Of course, Christians have also caused violence through the years too, and done many things in the name of Christ that did not reflect Christ’s teaching.  But that certainly doesn’t mean that faithful Christians sit quietly with hands folded, making no waves or enemies.

Jesus was edgy.  And if we really want to follow our calling, we will be edgy too.   But I’ll warn you, this kind of edgy isn’t always cool.  Our calling is a radical one.  We’re not just meant to be nice.  We’re called to love our neighbor to the point of sacrifice.  We are called to include the outcast, stand up for the downtrodden, and raise our voices against the realities of injustice and abuse.  Behavior that is truly Christian can get us kicked out of the “in” crowd, and it won’t always make us nice neighbors.

You might be different from me.  You might like meatloaf.  Living faithfully, however, will not allow us to live meatloaf lives.

I chose this recipe because I was intrigued by the inclusion of Portobello mushrooms.  As meatloaf goes, it wasn’t bad, though it was still meatloaf.  If you like meatloaf, you will probably enjoy this recipe.  Our family ate it with Ratatouille Pasta from Food to Live By, the cookbook from Earthbound Farms.  May you and your family and friends enjoy this meatloaf and be blessed.

Meatloaf

1 tablespoon olive oil                     1 cup chopped onions

1 6 oz pkg. sl. Portobello muchrooms, ch.

1 large egg                                         2 tablespoons water

¾ pound lean ground                      ¾ pound ground turkey

2/3 c. fresh bread crumbs             3 T finely chopped carrot

2 t. coarse grain mustard               1 t. minced garlic

1 t. salt                                                ¼ t. freshly ground pepper

Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Line a 13x9x2-inch baking pan with foil; lightly coat foil with vegetable cooking spray.  Heat oil in a 12 inch skillet over high heat; add onions and mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, 6 to 7 minutes, until mushroom liquid has evaporated and mushrooms are browned.  Cool.  Toss onion mixture with remaining ingredients lightly with fingertips in a large bowl.  Shape mixture into a 9x4-inch loaf in pan.  Cover with foil; bake 30 minutes.  Uncover meatloaf and bake 25 to 30 minutes more, until an instant-read meat thermometer inserted in center registers 160 degree F.  Let meatloaf stand in pan 5 minutes.  Remove from pan with a large spatula and transfer to serving platter.  Makes 4 servings. – Lisa Wade

Progress

In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling-place for God. 

     Ephesians 2:21-22

There is a reason I like to make my own pizza dough from scratch.  It may seem an excessive expenditure of time when whole pizzas, or crust, or dough can be easily purchased at any grocery store.  But I love it because when I can smell the yeast, I know I am cooking!  I am taking part in that ritual of mixing, kneading, shaping and cooking that ultimately keeps us all fed.

Even though we have a bread maker that makes phenomenal bread or dough (or even jelly, but that’s a story for another time), I love making dough from scratch.  Working and kneading flour and yeast mixture not only lets me pound out a lot of frustrations, it makes me feel like I am doing something real, something that has both meaning and nutritional value, something I can sink my hands into.

I’m pretty sure my son agrees, though he doesn’t have the words to express it yet.

In fact, Roland made a pizza breakthrough on this recent dinner.  I have long been trying to get my kids even minimally involved in cooking.  Pizza with its easy, hands-on quality has been one of my tools of choice.  But in the past, even this bore little success.  On this night, however, Roland not only took an interest in the pizza, but saw the whole process through to the end.

He helped to knead and roll out the dough – a part he always did like – spread around the sauce and even put on toppings.  It used to be that I had to nearly tie him to the chair to get him involved, and his interest was short lived.  That he sat still and took an interest in all of the steps was miracle enough.  Then he decided it was important enough to take pictures of the event! (More honestly, he just likes playing with the camera.)

Any parent will consider it important to see progress in their children.  But when children have special needs, any step forward is a cause to celebrate.  Such opportunities don’t come around often and when they do, it’s a party.

Progress is often painstaking.  When it happens at all, it might be unnoticeable if not downright invisible, or at the very least exasperatingly slow.  This is true in both children and adults, in our personal projects as well as in spiritual matters.  We crawl forward, bit by bit, fingers clawing the dirt.  We hope and hold out faith that we are going somewhere good, even when it isn’t at all obvious. 

But spiritual progress rarely shows up in measurable ways that are looked for in job evaluations.  This lack of external proof can be even more frustrating since it often means we are working through our scrap, our compost if you will.  Our history, our pain, the not-so-pleasant parts of ourselves are the very things we have to look at long and hard.

There are, however, signs that tell us of our progress.  We can begin to see ourselves with new eyes, which can be happy or painful, depending.  We may actually smack our head in despair thinking that we have gotten worse at some habit, or realized some less-than-wonderful attribute of our character when we are simply beginning to see ourselves as we are.  We didn’t suddenly gain this woeful attribute.  We see it because we are beginning to change.  When that happens to me, I take it as a sign of God’s work on my disposition.

Then, of course, there will be those joyous moments when our vision clears and we can see how far we come; when our progress becomes evident.  Then we celebrate.  We applaud our own efforts for the distance traveled.  We thank God for the journey.  We put our heads down and return to the fray.

Ultimately, our progress should be perceptible, both to us and to the outside world.  Whether or not we can prove it with test scores or character inventories, we should be better from doing the hard work of spiritual growth.  We won’t be able to unless we are willing to dig our hands into the dough.  Knead it and let it rise.

The pizza was excellent.  That my kids even tried it was a huge step forward. None of it, however, came from my Bass Family and Friends Cookbook.  You can find the pizza dough recipe here, and the sauce recipe here.

Blessed Eating!

Pup-cakes

My good friend, Julie, took me to lunch at a new restaurant.  Sophie’s Uptown was a café I’d never heard of, but I loved it the minute I got there.  The place named after – and dedicated to – Sophie, a rescued dog and long-time companion of the owner and founder, David York.  Sophie recently passed away at the age of 20, but her memory lives on through the work of the café.

Adorned with beautiful dog photos and artwork, the café fits right into the Buckhead environment.  It is more, however, than just a nice place to eat.  Sophie’s Uptown offers 25% of all profits to animal rescue organization.  Along with your meal, you get a token which allows you to vote for the organization where you would like your 25% to go.

My lunch was a tomato-basil soup and veggie quiche, both wonderful.  I gave my token to an organization that supports pet health and then enjoyed a dessert of pup-cakes.  These were the best part of the meal.  Of the many great desserts offered, these cupcakes with puppy faces created in icing were the most fun.

Our pets are among the greatest gifts we are given by God.  I’m not sure we adequately appreciate that fact.  We may forget that we are intended to be God’s gift to them as well.  Let’s remember and enjoy our companion animals and take care of them as God takes care of us.

If you live in, or find yourself passing through, the Buckhead area be sure to stop in at Sophie’s and enjoy a good meal with a good cause.

Sophie’s Uptown; 54 Pharr Rd, Atlanta, GA 30305; 404.812.0477; www.sophiesuptown.com

Blessed eating!

Common Sense

I got to be a guest writer for a friend's blog last week.  View my rant, um . . . I mean writing, here.

Hidden

Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.    Psalm 17:8

My mother saw it before I did.  The small banana pepper was the same shade as its stalk and invisible to my eyes.  I had seen its beginning, as the flower, then as a tiny fruit beginning to grow.  Then I lost it.  I just forgot to watch its progress as it grew into a full-size, edible product; a beautiful light green pepper.  All that taste hidden among the leaves!

The theme of being “hidden” is a common one in scripture.  Psalmists often speak of being hidden away, being protected by God’s almighty hand.  Job railed against God because the reason for his plight was hidden from him.  In the New Testament, Jesus cautions us that the Kingdom of God is hidden from the wise, but revealed to little children.  Finally, the apostle Paul reminds us that at the right time, all that is hidden will be revealed.

There is much in our lives that is hidden from us, much we would like to know.  There are mysteries of the universe that science has yet to unravel, and mysteries within ourselves that we wish we understood.  We believe in a God who is self-revealing, who profoundly desires to be known by us.  But even the best of us, the most ardent student, the most committed seeker will still surely find that their pool of knowledge will be far smaller than the mysteries that are yet unsolved.

We humans, being a curious lot, don’t sit well with the unknown.  We crave answers and certainty.  God seems to have intended it this way.  We pour our efforts and resources into scientific discovery, and those less energetic among us enjoy Miss Marple on Masterpiece Mystery.  But we Christians have a delicate balance to strike.  We are called to seek, and promised that we will find.  We are summoned along the path of discovery, learning more about the world outside ourselves and the mysteries within.  Most of all we are called to search ever deeper into the character of the divine, and to be transformed by it.

But the balance lies in accepting the mystery, countering our desire to know with the recognition of the things that are beyond us.  This isn’t all bad.  There is some comfort in our ignorance.  In recognizing the mystery that we cannot solve, we are reminded that our lives are only a tiny piece in a great universe and that – while we are responsible for some care and maintenance – we are not ultimately accountable for its functioning.  Put simply:  God is God, we are us.

In acknowledging our limits, we also gain understanding for the reason we worship.  Through our worship, we experience the glory that comes with participating in something much greater than ourselves.  We are able to touch on the divine.  We enjoy knowing that the mysteries we explore will not come to an end any time soon, and we revel in a God who is greater than we are.

I wasted no time in using my beautiful pepper.  I chopped it up in a salad of spinach and strawberries.  It was marvelous.  But since I don’t have a written recipe for that piece of the meal, I’ll give you the recipe for our dessert.  Mmmmmm . . .

Blessed eating!

Blueberry Dump Cake

2 pints of blueberries                     3/4 c. sugar

1 white cake mix                              1 c. pecans, chopped

8 T Margarine, melted

Pour berries into 9x13 pan.  Sprinkle sugar, dry cake mix and nuts over berries.  Pour melted Margarine over entire mixture.  Bake at 325 for 1 hour.  (A yellow cake mix may turn the cake a grayish green color.)  Serve.  Yield: 12 servings. – Diane Taylor

I love everything about this cake except the name.  Therefore, I will henceforth call this recipe Blueberry Crumble.  Amen and amen.

Climb

We are climbing Jacob’s ladder,
We are climbing Jacob’s ladder,
We are climbing Jacob’s ladder,
Soldiers of the cross.

Every round goes higher, higher,
Every round goes higher, higher,
Every round goes higher, higher,
Soldiers of the cross.

 

My spinach is teaching me a lesson in climbing.   The plant I am growing is not true spinach, but Malabar Spinach – a very different plant in botanical terms, but similar (I am told) in taste.  I choose to grow it because regular spinach is not built to handle Georgia’s hot summers.

Before I planted it, I had read that Malabar Spinach is a fast grower.  I laughed about that idea as I watched the tiny seedlings slowly poke their heads out of the ground (a week or two after I had given up on their growing at all).  I became even more skeptical after I repotted them, as I saw their leaves faithfully but gradually expand in size.  I was beginning to wonder if I had gotten a shrub variety by mistake, when one day, I saw a tiny stem reaching for the makeshift trellis (a side of an old dog pen) I had set up for it.  It was all over after that.  In no time, the trellis was full of vines speeding up and beyond the top, reaching for new heights to climb.

Sometimes I wish my own personal climb were nearly as fast.  I wish I were as bent on climbing as my Malabar Spinach.  These vines have help from heaven.  It is in their nature to grow, and they would be unhealthy doing otherwise.  Like them, we too are meant to grow. We have been created with an inborn craving to be more, to be better and to connect with something that is bigger than we are.

At the same time, we may find ourselves resisting.  The climb takes effort.  We would like to think of ourselves in grand terms, but the truth is, we human beings can be rather small.  We can be petty.  We retaliate when we are angry.  We walk away rather than reconcile.  We bend the truth to favor our point of view.  We work to win an argument rather than find clarity and common ground.  We allow our emotions to run away with us. 

We have the potential to climb heavenward, but the truth is it is much easier to stay small, to remain a shrub.  We know ourselves as a shrub.  Granted there isn’t much to know: just a few stalks and leaves.  We feel we have a grip on life and we know our place in it.  If we start reaching skyward, there is no telling the dangers we might open ourselves to.   The things that are out there beyond the beautiful blue might be either terrifying or wonderful.  We might realize how great our God-created universe is.  We just might realize how small we are. Much easier to keep our perspective undersized and imagine ourselves large.

Still, we are called to increase.  To grow.  To climb.  To forego the comfortable selves we used to be in order to become something that God has in mind.  More important, we are called to know the real world around us in order to see ourselves and others in proper perspective.

And so we do the work of growth.  We spend the time with God in prayer and study.  We observe the mysteries of the universe and we learn to be content in our corner of it.  We learn to favor the truth above personal advantage, reconciliation over being right.  When the opportunities come, we make the hard choices.  We do what we know to be best.  We eat our . . . well . . . spinach.  There must be help in heaven for us too.

I haven’t eaten much of my spinach yet.  I have put some in an omelet with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella cheese.  Wonderful!  This weekend, I’m going to try it in a salad with a few strawberries from the garden. 

Blessed eating!