Sometimes you don't

I posted about making these cookies the other day to satisfy my chocolate craving and calm my inner crazy mom.  I made half of the pan with nuts, and half without, because sometimes you feel like a nut, and sometimes you don't.  In the pic, the nuts are on the L.  You can see that Scott and I went a little more nuts than not.

I would like to make the note that substituting almonds for walnuts in a cookie bar recipe didn't work great because the almonds got a little rubbery.  But it still tasted sweet and chocolatey, was highly edible, and worked for me.

As for nuts, we have a bowl of them on our kitchen island.  They've been sitting there since Christmas.  We bought them thinking it would be fun to use with the nutcracker Kyrstin got for her birthday.  She loves nutcrackers, as her excitement in this picture attests.

As it turns out, though, the nuts were too strong for the nutcracker, which was actually decorative.  Not being "nut" people (in one sense) we didn't know that.  So, now we have this big bowl of nuts, plus another amount the same size where that came from in the pantry.  I'm not sure what to do with them.  I don't feel like having them out anymore, but I can't waste all those walnuts, pecans, hazelnuts, and almonds.  I'm not likely to individual crack and chop them to cook with.  Anybody wanna go nuts?

The half-life of grace, or second-hand miracles

A friend offered me some secondhand clothes and I picked them today.  I appreciate this because a) it helps me extend my wardrobe, and b) I don't have to suffer any buyer's remorse.

I was thinking this morning about the miracle of longsuffering; how over time, indirectly, some of the longsufferer wears off on the suffered.  Maybe this is because I am so hard-headed and proud that you can't teach me anything; you have to show me.  That takes time, which puts the long in longsuffering.

If I could just learn everything directly for myself, I could experience more grace firsthand.  Sometimes, though, I don't even know what I'm missing.  I get around people who've got something special, and think, hmm, where  can I pick some of that stuff up?  Also, I have in the past bought some nice stuff second-hand, and really enjoyed the quality.  It made me more willing to pay the price for the real thing later on, and start counting that cost.  It's the same with spiritual blessings.

This idea makes me uncomfortable, too, because I realize how frequently the grace God shines into my life is  snuffed out by my own selfishness or fleshliness.  This is most evident when I am impatient or short with my children.  I guess sometimes I expect them to be little adults.  It's taken me XX years to arrive where I am, and it's not the finish line... clean or dirty, cute or frumpy, I've got some little wardrobes to launder and fold, and do it all again tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow... until they're big enough to take it all on their own.

The patience to do that would be a miracle that I am just hoping would have a secondhand effect.

Sometimes you feel like a nut

There are cookie bars baking in my oven.  Let me tell you the story of how they came to be.

Last night, around 1:30, our little boy started fussing.  We tried rocking and holding him, to no avail.  We tried to let him cry it out, but he would not let up and we could not sleep.  We finally gave him some tylenol, held him for 20 minutes after that, and then let him go back to sleep.  We think it is a teething issue as there was a wet spot on his sleeve right where he likes to chew when he is teething.  All in all this took two hours - so, around 3:30, I'm snuggling under the covers, thankful, and zzzz....

7:30 my daughter comes into bed with us.  We are tired, but happy because it's a Saturday, so we can take it slow and be together.  Breakfast is nice, and with coffee, I feel like kind of a decent person.  Until the kids start being weird.  Then we have errands to run, and I feel like I'm dragging them around in the van, though heavier than our automobile seems to be the accumulating thoughts of everything that annoys me in life.  The coffee starts to wear off.  I have nothing nice to say, so say mostly nothing to anyone.  I contemplate the fact that my tiredness from being up two hours in night watches does not explain or justify my total change of attitude from breakfast to errands, but it does contribute.

After lunch I decide that what will make me feel better is to bake something chocolaty.  Start out going for cookies, but realize we are out of sugar, so switch to bars.  I realize also that cooking and/or eating chocolate is really not going to make the difference in my attitude, but that it will contribute.  We have most of the ingredients on hand - graham crackers, sweetened condensed milk, flaked coconut, and chocolate chips, but no walnuts.  I decide to sub some of the almonds that we have, though I put them only on half of the pan since they might constitute a choking hazard for the little boy.

The combo of chocolate, coconut, and almonds reminds me of Almond Joy.  So I figure that half of my pan of cookie bars will be Mounds, and half will be Almond Joy.  This split really is an apt metaphor for my day, and a lot of days: sometimes I feel like a nut, and sometimes I don't.

Dickinson's days

I've been doing a little background research for an idea I had for writing a different kind of hymn; one that used the meter of the hymn in order to throw into relief an atheistic or agnostic message. I was thinking about Emily Dickinson, because I remember learning in my undergrad days that Dickinson often used hymn meter for her poetry. Case in point, "Because I Could Not Stop for Death" is written in common meter, as is "Amazing Grace," by John Newton.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

 vs.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

 A lot of scholars have put a lot of thought into why she did this. Was it because so much exposure to hymns predisposed her to a particular cadence? Was she fond of hymns? Did she like the challenge? It was certainly a limitation that she chose for her own purposes. I guess scholars are not settled on the question, and I have enough respect for literary studies not to impose a hasty answer. For me, though, hearing Dickinson's poems set to hymn tunes makes it readily apparent how very different her message was from that of the hymns. Consider the last two stanzas of both "Because I could not stop" and "Amazing Grace." I'm also including the penultimate stanza of Dickinson's poem for context.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

 vs.

 When we've been there ten thousand years
 Bright shining as the sun
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.

It is not clear what happens in Dickinson's eternity, but Newton's is clearly a choir party. Note the emphasis on the length of days, too. It really brings out the contrast. Well, that is enough for now; I'll post a few more times on this subject, I think.

Surprises

We are home today. It is overdetermined. We can't get out, and there aren't many places we really ought to be other than here. Surprisingly, it's been a good day; the kids have played nicely and even shown sign of some developmental progress (always encouraging with a toddler and preschooler). Kids are playing in back yard and seem to really like it. 64 or so out there this January day; got to love Oklahoma weather and all of its surprises (earthquakes, tornadoes, Sprinter, etc.). Friends can surprise you, too. There is something I need regular help with and have been struggling to find it; I felt like God put on my heart to get in touch with a couple of people, but have not, because I have assumed they were too busy. Well, I called two of them today, almost apologetically. One said she'd be happy to help almost any other time, which was good to know, and the other agreed to do it, with hardly a hesitation. God can surprise me. Happiness is being surprised by little moments. Well, wouldn't you know; before I could finish typing this up I hear a little voice tell me of a developmental regression... that I have to clean up... life is never as neat and tidy as a blog post.

Running the course

I woke up thinking this would be a long day, and hearing Caedmon's Call's "Walk With Me." Here is a goofy video of it: I always admire how well Danielle performs when pregnant. Long night w/sick toddler, appointments to make, IT issues to resolve on behalf of others... My thoughts were punctuated like my plodding steps in the pre-dawn house: One. Day. At. A. Time. I felt like I really just needed to get to my quiet time - it felt vital. It really does restore my soul. I found a little treasure in Psalm 19. It's about the sun, which is "like a champion rejoicing to run his course. It rises at one end of the heavens and makes it circuit to the other; nothing is hidden from its heat" (5b-6). I'm not sure what part gets to me the most. I think part of it is that even the sun just does his thing one day at a time, but he does it really well. I think it's also knowing that a day can only be so long - we'll get through it. Walk with me empty; walk with me strong. This is going to be one of those more empty days, I think, but I am praying for the Lord to supply what I need.

Beautiful Things

In my reading and in my Bible study, a recent emphasis is on the resurrection of Christ. As it is not Easter and these two readings were completely unrelated, I believe the Lord is bringing this into focus for me. My daughter's scripture verse for the week from her children's program is 1 Thessalonians 4:14, "We believe that Jesus died and rose again." I also read this quote from Yancey in Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World: "The three-day pattern - tragedy, darkness, triumph - became for New Testament writers a template that can be applied to all our times of testing" (132). What great encouragement, awe, and transcendent perspective comes through this tenet of Christian belief - the bodily resurrection of Christ, and the power behind that resurrection. The hope I have is not in my own power, and the power in which I place I have my hope is not limited by death or the grave. The thing that really gets me is that beyond the darkness, there is triumph. Beyond the grave, there is a more glorious life. He doesn't provide merely an end to our grieving period, but replaces it with gladness (Isaiah 61:3). There are a lot of songs that talk about this concept, but the one I heard this morning is Gungor's "Beautiful Things." I have to say I don't think that you can make a doctrine out of this song, and I don't know entirely where Gungor is coming from (though I have some idea) but as far as the simple idea in this song goes, it's true. The album art is a nice complement, too. Side note: we saw a beautiful sunrise this morning. Exactly.

All is calm...

Happiness is having the house to myself for a few hours. My husband is off today for MLK day and he took the kids out for awhile. He knew it would be fun for both kids and mommy. He just let me know the zoo is packed; free Mondays + holiday + beautiful January weather = a zoo at the zoo. So, it might not last long, but while it does, I'm enjoying that the only sounds in the house are the ones I'm making or playing. Over this winter break I set out to read two books; one I've blogged about already - the Pemberley one - and the other is Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World, by Joanna Weaver. It might be one of the best books I've ever read. Am 2/3 through and will not rush it just to meet my goal, because I have so enjoyed digesting it slowly and don't want to gobble up the rest.

Zigzags

This morning, I read an admonition in 1 Thessalonians to "be joyful always." Yay! Okay! Here goes! I also was reading in a Christian book about how sometimes bad things happen, and that God's will does not always proceed in a straight line. Indeed. I am wondering where my own zigzags are going to take me. All I know is He is with me, my sure foundation. Well, speaking of zigzags, I made this braided calzone a few times last week. With the dough made in the bread machine, the work was really minimal for me, and it's an easy and pretty way to feed a family. The braid is such a nice touch.

Easy treats

These are just Jet-Puffed peppermint marshmallows (which are oblong and flatter than regular marshmallows) with melted semisweet chips around them. I think milk chocolate would be a little better, but they are very easy and unusual candy to make, and have a Valentine's Day vibe (minus the Christmas plate).

Ten minutes to blog about our dog

I told the kids they had ten more minutes to play outside, and then it would be time for stories, naptime, etc. We got a dog yesterday with some late Christmas money. Here he is.

I'd had my eye on him for awhile. I really expected that Stefan would take to him, but it is Kyrstin who wants to bring him into the kitchen for meals, and bounce around the house on Blue, for that is what she has named him. I know this is a little snarky, but I can't resist commenting on how much we enjoy this kind of dog. No barking, no poop, no upkeep. We will have to clean his paws from time to time, and that's it. I can walk around barefoot in my yard without the concern that I might have missed something. Seriously and non-snarkily, this is a cool toy. It's made of a a durable, non-smelly molded rubber of some type, is less expensive than the Rody, and can hold up to 250 pounds, which means that I can bounce on him with one of the kids if I feel inclined. It's fun. Happiness is a bouncy blue dog.

It's not easy being Jeeves

Here is my prepared "English Breakfast" in front of the computer where I'm writing.

My overnight plan didn't go exactly as I'd expected; the bread machine was so loud at 3:30 this morning that it woke me up, so I moved it into the guest bathroom where the sound would be least bothersome to the family. Just to ease your mind, this is a bathroom where the toilet and bathtub are behind a separate door. The smell worked out exactly as I'd hoped, though I noticed there was no coffee smell. That is because I programmed my coffeemaker for PM instead of AM. Anyway,at 7:30, here's what I had.

My 1 1/2 lb. loaf of bread and my 4-cup pot of coffee (I was only making the coffee for me). Doesn't that hunk of bread look great? The kind of big bulk that makes you want to sing, "Let us break bread together on our knees." This is the kind of bread that in biblical times could be placed on a table and everyone just pull off a chunk to eat. In fact, I am told people still do this in the middle east. Well, like I said before, I was feeling British, so it needed to be sliced. You know what's the greatest thing since sliced bread? Me, either, but I can understand why that moment split culinary time. Slicing the bread is no easy chore now if you don't have the right knife. I have this small serrated knife that required two separate sawings per slice - one on each side. I wonder when sliced bread came out and when electric knives came out. I often wonder about pre-industrial, pre kitchen-full-of-time-saving-gadgets women and/or their help. Well, I sliced two thin slices for my kids, which turned out kind of uneven, and then sliced two big chunks, which I realized was a much better shape when you can do it. Here are the non-kid slices.

Here are the kids.

Sitting out were the butter, jelly, eggs, microwave steamer bowl, bread machine pain, coffee, and a can of peaches. By 9 A.M. I sat down with the above breakfast. Thinking of all of the conveniences I had, and how long it still took me, my hat is off to all of the house help at Pemberley and Longbourn (no E).

I rang

I am feeling very British and pampered right now. I programmed both my breadmaker and coffeemaker for 6:30 tomorrow morning. The way I hope it works, the coffee will start brewing at 6:30, which is right when I will need to take the bread out of the machine to let it cool for 20 minutes before I slice it. I imagine myself enjoying some coffee while I wait on my bread. Doesn't that sound nice? This is inspired by Jane Austen, directly and indirectly. My husband got me a few Austen-themed gifts for Christmas, and my imagination has luxuriated around Longbourne, Netherfield, and Pemberley. Yes, even Longbourne, because let's face it, even being a shabby aristocrat is still the life. One perk is that someone makes all of your meals for you on a certain schedule. You can even "ring for breakfast" if you want it at an hour earlier than it would customarily be laid out in the house. The thought of ringing for breakfast when it suits you really suited me, so I decided to arrange for my own breakfast to be made. Bread and coffee doesn't make a whole breakfast, especially when little kids are eating with you, but it will be a nice way to start the day. Happiness is being your own cook, maid, and butler. It will be worth it for the aromas alone. *Technical note*: for some reason over the past month my paragraph breaks have disappeared. When I'm composing they're there, but what I see does not translate.

The Gift of Trust

There need to be more post-Christmas songs to ease us out of the holiday season into normal life. The only one I know is "'Til the Season Comes 'Round Again," which I know and love from an Amy Grant album (I couldn't find a good, licensed recording of this song online). Our vacation was very blessed. It wasn't perfect, but it was time together to talk and play and, with relief, rediscover a few things. It was a respite. We took down our Christmas decorations last night and my husband went back to work this morning. We don't proceed full-throttle yet, but vacations cannot last forever, as my associate pastor recently reminded the congregation, and it is time to move into the next season. Last night I was also blessed to find a few Christmas-themed short stories by Harriet Beecher Stowe. It was a great transition from vacation to work. The first story featured the rich reaching out to the poor from charity prompted by visits from angels at Christmas time. This sounds sappy, I realize, but Stowe always makes me believe it. The angels visit the poor family, too, and when the mother, worked to the bone, is about to give up on happiness and hope, the angels give her the Christmas gift of trust. I loved that. Right now, that is the gift I most value - the gift of trusting the Lord with the new season, whatever it brings Spring 2012. I think of the words of the song mentioned above, "May the new year be blessed with good tidings." That is a nice thought. Good or bad, I want to trust.