Feasting

Yesterday I turned 44.
Gray hair, creaky bones, failing eyesight and now a harsh reaction to rich dairy products round out all the reasons to despise getting older. Not being able to eat cheese is the newest issue and it completely sucks. If you know me, you know I love cheese and use it in and on everything. Well, not anymore. I get sick now every time I eat it...even small amounts. How sad... tragic really that as you grow mature enough to fully appreciate things, you can't have them. Just another evil twist of fate.
Anyway, despite the slow deterioration of my body, I still love cooking. And eating. Brad knows this and offered to take me out for my birthday dinner, but I wanted the whole family to go. Taking all six of us out is cost prohibitive (unless we go to McD's which is not an option), so I opted to make my own meal.
And make it I did...all my favorites and some new ones.

Menu:
Crostini with tomato bruschetta
Homemade goat cheese
Prime rib
Sauteed green beans with pearl onions
Baked potatoes
Fresh Italian whey bread
Triple layer chocolate peanut butter cake

The homemade goat cheese (flavored with fresh rosemary, garlic, olive oil, salt & pepper) lusciously spread on the bruschetta and whey bread tasted amazing with everything. A wonderful alternative to give me my cheese fix. Definitely something I'll be making often.
Prime rib is my favorite and frankly one of the main reasons (besides bacon) that I'm a carnivore. Roasted to perfection, every savory bite melted in my mouth.
Italian whey bread was another new recipe. As I researched the goat cheese I found several potential uses for the leftover whey created when the cheese separates. The best option to me was the bread. It was sooo yummy. Dense in texture with a subtle flavor is complimented the rest of the meal perfectly.
The dessert...well, for someone who makes cakes for a living, this wasn't my best. The recipe is great. That's not the problem. The issue was me on the phone while I was making it. I lost track of measurements twice and while it didn't effect the flavor, it most certainly effected the consistency. The end result was not bad...but not great either.
So, the winner in the birthday meal menu?
The homemade goat cheese.

Sorry, I realize this post is uninspiring and I don't even have pictures of the creations...I just wasn't on top of it...maybe next time.

Prime Rib
I had a 6.5 pound prime rib roast and rubbed it with a paste of olive oil, thyme, garlic (10 cloves), coarse salt & pepper. I let it sit at room temp for about an hour.
I roasted it on 500* for about 30 minutes (your house will probably get smokey because of the drippings so be prepared). Then turned the oven down to 300* and cooked it until the middle internal temp was 140*--about another hour and a half. I then removed it and let it rest for about 30 minutes. Prime rib is supposed to be medium rare so don't freak out about the red--just enjoy the melt in your mouth texture of perfect meat!

Goat Cheese
This was so easy it's ridiculous.
*Heat 1 qt goats milk til it reaches 180*
*Add 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
*Gently stir and it will curdle--slightly--it's not chunky.
*Have 4 layers cheesecloth ready in a colander set in a deep bowl and gently ladle the liquid into it. Tie up the cheese cloth and hang on a spoon traversing the bowl and let it drip and separate.
*The whey ends up in the bottom and the cheese is in the cloth.
*Let it drain about 11/2 hours then gently fold in whatever flavors** you want and serve.
*I used the whey to make bread...just google "Italian Whey Bread" if you're interested.
**I used garlic, rosemary, salt, pepper & a touch olive oil. Next time I'm going to go sweet and add clover honey and maybe a little cinnamon. I'm telling you this is rich, delicious, mellow cheese with the consistency of ricotta. Yum! My kids even loved it!

Cold Cold Heart

Crystal clear blue skies provide a beautiful backdrop to the naked trees. The bright white snow sparkles in the sun. It's a beautiful day.
Sitting in my newly remodeled dining room, enjoying my hot black coffee the view out my window is lovely and you would never guess that if you stepped outside the blast of Arctic air hits you in the face like a two by four.
It's cold.
No, you don't understand.
It's not ordinary winter cold.
It's frigid cold.
18 degrees below zero cold.

It's wind chills of -35 degrees cold.
My fingers clumsily trip over the keyboard because they're cold. And I'm inside.
I hate cold.
From the safety of my home the day is still beautiful despite the bone chilling winds.

But the thermometer tells the truth.

That's how my heart feels at times.
Frosty.
Immune to the hurt and pain around me.
Desensitized by life and reacting to hurts, I erect ice walls brick by brick. Layer upon layer of anger, pride, annoyance, judgement, greed...fill in the blank.
The result?

A holed up, impenetrable icy heart impervious to warmth.
And I see it all around me too-- this cold cold heart. Sometimes it comes out in cutting humor, a critical negative attitude or just a jaded, cynical view of life and people and God. Cold hearts don't discriminate based on race, age, socioeconomic status, intelligence, religion or politics.
Everyone is at risk. No one's immune.

But I don't want to be an ice princess.*

I see a hurting world and I want to respond.

What can melt these icy walls?

What can melt my soul to love?

Melt My Soul to Love by Joseph Swain

Hark! From the cross a gracious voice,
Salutes my ravished ears;
Rejoice, thou ransomed souls, rejoice!
And dry those falling tears!

Amazed, I turn, grown strangely bold;
This wondrous thing to see;
And there the dying Lord behold,
Stretched on the bloody tree.

‘Sinners’, he cried, ‘behold the head,
This thorny wreath entwines;
Look on those wounded hands and read
Thy name in crimson lines.’

The power, the sweetness of that voice
My stony heart does move;
Makes me in Christ my Lord rejoice
And melts my soul to love.

*yes, I am writing that with Seinfeld in mind

Suspended Time

Snow falling, tiny flakes blowing horizontally out my window I contemplate another week. Five to eight inches expected with high winds today and tomorrow. Gray, cloudy skies, every object covered in white, this monochromatic world stirs a longing deep within and makes me both sleepy and fully awake...time suspended.

Playing under the eaves in the attic, I'd don dress up clothes and create my imaginary home. Complete with invisible husband and child I'd play house. Arranging furniture, cooking, speaking with a foreign accent, creating both crisis and resolutions, whiling away hours in my own world I lived contently.

All grown up and on the cusp of my 44th birthday I long for the days under the eaves. And yet, I wouldn't go back if I could.

So what do I pine for from my youth?

Certainly I'd love the energy, stamina and smooth soft skin again.

I'm glad I know more and have experienced more-both the good and the bad.

Perhaps it's the magic and wonder.

Or maybe simply the time to explore and get lost in my own imagination.

Or the daily discovery of life.

But that's still all right here, right at my fingertips.

It's not chronological age that hampers me.

My dad never stops learning and digging and wondering.

And I often see my mom filled with awe.

Tears sting my eyes when I'm lost in a moment with beautiful music or walk through trees covered in hoar frost or contemplate the deep lasting true love of my husband or connect on a heart level with one of my kids or experience the joy of seeing God at work.

All that beauty that stirs my heart points me to a different kind of grown-up life... one that will never end.

"I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can." Ecclesiastes 3

**Under the Eaves by Henri Matisse**

Perpetual Adolescent

Well...I....it's not-uhh bad...well...uhh... not the uhh ...north umm...roads...umm...well....
My brain was screaming Shut up! Stop Talking! What's wrong with you???!!!

It took a while to recover. To make myself feel better in the wake of my social suicide, I was self talking like Stuart Smalley in the SNL sketch's: "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!"
Why did I stumble and fumble over my words and act all goofy? It was a question about the weather for cryin' out loud!

No, it wasn't the question that left me verbally tripping and looking like a schmuck. It was the day and the situation...I blame it on my perpetual adolescence.

After a ball game, a group of parents stood in the hall. I was decidedly the outsider but I was with one of the "cool kids" so the others felt it might be safe to talk to me. Who knew that a simple query about the wind on the roads would unleash my inner awkward adolescent self.

But it didn't start at the game. The whole day was characterized by a massive identity crisis which in turn led to insecurity. If I wasn't inarticulate about the weather I was second guessing my words to a friend or feeling like a poser talking to the savvy woman about her upcoming Italian adventure or rethinking my vocation or obsessing about the alarming number of gray hairs adorning my head. Overloaded, I felt like my brain was on the verge of exploding--or imploding. Either way, it would have been nasty.

Calm, cool, collected on the outside no one would guess I heard "fail" in my ear every time I said something or wrote something or spoke to anyone.

I'm beyond being someone I'm not. I can't help but be me. But what about when me falls flat on me's face? I'd love to don an alter ego and escape from me once in a while. But alas, I've tried and it doesn't work. So I'm left with me. And most days it's ok. In fact I've learned that I like me. I've learned that as I grow and change and struggle and trust that God doesn't make mistakes, I see glimpses of the me He intends. But that fact doesn't make the identity crisis or insecurities any less a reality.

A few weeks ago someone near and dear to my heart wrote "Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Is this what life becomes?" I consider this young man a kindred spirit: pensive, reflective, analytical, searching, spiritual and discontent with good enough.

Eat sleep work repeat...

Is what we do who we are? work, cook, clean, eat, sleep, work

Are we what we feel? happy, sad, angry, jealous

Are we simply the sum of our roles? mother, daughter, wife, friend

Why am I a 44 year old who still feels like a teenager when I lose who I am and become insecure?

We all want to be liked. We all want to be important to somebody. We all want purpose. But you don't have to live long before eat, sleep, work, repeat takes over and you have no idea who you are.
Is this the life God intends? Or do we fall into identity issues and insecurities because of pride--because we don't think we're getting what we deserve from life or work or those near to us? I know that's at least partially true for me. Somehow I'm fooled into thinking I got gypped along the way.

Then I read this quote by Oswald Chambers and a light begins to dawn on the horizon and I see my pride and futility. "The tendency is to look for the marvellous in our experience; we mistakethe sense of the heroic for being heroes. It is one thing to go through a crisis grandly, but another thing to go through every day glorifying God when there is no witness, no limelight, no one paying the remotest attention to us...The test of the life of a saint is not success, but faithfulness in human life as it actually is...Our human relationships are the actual conditions in which the ideal life of God is to be exhibited."

Paul says to the Ephesians "God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago."

So, we're His, our identity is His and our purpose is His... awkward adolescent moments and severe insecurities included.

**Photo: yes, that's a young Sarah Jessica Parker in "Square Pegs"**

Ain't too proud to beg...

In my Wednesday night Bible study, we've been meandering our way through the book of Mark. No study guide. No commentaries. No predetermined questions. We read, pray and talk. After over a year, we're up to chapter 7. Obviously, bulldozing through it is not our goal. Anyway, last night we discussed the part of chapter 6 where Jesus calms the winds when his friends are in their boat. My friend shared a story about her son and how God provided a "calming the winds" moment for her. He was not just restless, but screaming. She did all she could humanly do in the situation to calm him but nothing helped. She finally cried out to God saying "I can't do anything else for him, but you can. Please help him sleep." Within seconds, her sweet little autistic boy stopped screaming and fell fast asleep.
Coincidence? I think not.
This wasn't the first time she prayed for her little boy to rest and be calm but it is the first time they experienced an immediate response .
Did she pray differently this time? I don't know, but I don't think so.
I watched the movie Big the other day. Tom Hanks was and is one of my favorite actors. This was the first roles of his that I really noticed and loved. Funny, poignant, simultaneously light and deep, it's a coming of age story like none other. Josh, a 12 year old, frustrated with being short and pushed around and told what to do, puts a quarter into Zoltar, a game at a carnival, and wishes to be big. Zoltar grants his wish and you'll have to watch the rest of the movie to get the end of the story.

Anyway, God isn't a Zoltar. We don't put in a prayer request and get our wishes granted.

Christians talk about prayer all the time.

It's a conversation...It's a dialogue...It's listening...It's presenting requests...It's mainly for praise...It's communion with the Holy...It's for God not us...It's for us not God...

Countless books on how to pray, when to pray, why pray...

Somehow we think you have to do it right or God won't hear--as if if our actions spark some sort of obligatory response from God, the Maker of the universe.

No, He's not obligated to respond any certain way.

So, why pray? To make ourselves feel better? To appease a glory-seeking ego centric puppet-master God? Because He commands us to pray?

Well, God does tell us to pray.

And it's clear, as you study the Bible that He wants us to pray.

But again, why? Again, as you study you'll find all sorts of reasons, but I guess that is not my point.

If you keep reading Mark to the end of chapter 6 it explains how Jesus and his followers travelled to towns "And wherever he went—into villages, towns or countryside—they placed the sick in the marketplaces. They begged him to let them touch even the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed."

They begged him...

Desperate, needy, humble...they begged him.

The last several weeks, I've felt desperate before God. My whole life, I've been learning what it means to truly trust a huge, mysterious, perplexing God and say "Your will be done" all the while throwing myself on His mercy and begging for His healing and intervention not only for myself, but for others. Trusting and begging can coexist. Look at those in the marketplace who touched his robe.

Beggar poor, I show up at Mercy's door. Nothing to offer, everything to gain. And He let's me touch His robe and I know there's healing. Not always an immediate calming of my storm, but a healing I can't explain. A Light that shines into the deepest darkest parts of this soul.

Yes

Labeled a "drama" I knew what I was getting into. But I'd heard it was good and I could handle some drama.

Amid flashbacks and beautiful scenery, the first few minutes gave me an idea of the intensity level and quality of the film. I didn't want to, but 15 minutes in, I had to stop the movie. I turned it off and went to my meeting knowing I wouldn't get a chance to watch the rest until the next day.

Only 15 minutes of the movie made an impact. Last night, I dreamt of it. And it was a frightening dream. We were in danger; at the hands of evil men masquerading as friends. And in the dream fear gripped me and I didn't want to do what I knew I needed to do. But I thought (in the dream) this is the year of yes...ok...this will probably end in my death, but yes...I'll go with what I'm supposed to do and not succumb to the fear.

Well, I don't know the end of the dream because I made myself wake up.

Yes. I'm one of those people who seem to have some control over my dreams. It's inconvenient in this case because I'd like to know if I survived and how.

I finished the film today and loved it...all the gritty, sad, thrilling, redemptive, dark parts of it. It's one of those movies that seems strange to label as entertaining. Thought provoking is a more apt phrase.

But this post isn't actually supposed to be about the movie. It's about the yes. Just two short weeks after writing that post where I claimed yes as my word for the year and I feel like I'm right back where I started: motivated by fear rather than trust, struggling with the same thought patterns, saying yes when it's convenient or easy and running when it's hard.

Example: I sat in a long meeting yesterday and didn't contribute a thing. Partly because I didn't have a lot to add, but mostly because I didn't want to look like an idiot. I was out of my element. It was a large group. There were lots of scary men.* Everyone had a basic level of knowledge about the subject that was far beyond mine.

Insecurity.

Envy.

Discontent.
Fear.

Why do I say yes to these negative, counterproductive thoughts and no to risk and trust?

I've been beating myself up a little today** over it but then my dream came back to me. I said yes in my dream. The will and desire are there floating around in my subconscious. Now for the actions to be in the real world. That will be a happy day.

As I reread the above, apart from being annoyed by my ramb-ly writing and inability to articulate what I really mean, I feel I need to explain my yes year. I do and always have said yes when it comes to relationships. God's made it very clear that there's no saying no when He wants someone in my life. No matter how taxing, annoying, draining or needy they are, if He put them in my life it's for a reason. I guess what I mean by saying yes is that I naturally shy away(run) from anything that might bring conflict. I also know I'm prone to take the road of least resistance when it comes to life in general. And the life of least resistance becomes an ordinary, boring life where growth is difficult and stagnancy results. So, my quest of yes is a quest for greater trust. A quest to look for and see God's vision and willingly embrace it.

I'm curious, when is it hard for you to say yes in life?

*They weren't really scary or mean at all--it's just me and my issues.

**Don't worry, more like self-deprecating than beating.

Seek

It's quiet.

After a busy weekend culminating with six college boys in the house, we spent two more days hunkered down in a snow storm. Our home and hearts full, we've enjoyed togetherness.

But now, now I need alone-ness.

At the moment I'm enjoying solitary reverie. But not for long. Even as I type I can hear Brad stirring.

Soon the quiet will be broken, the dim light of dawn will be swallowed up with bright daylight and my time for reflection will quickly take a back seat to last nights dishes and today's responsibilities.

Why do I revel in this early morning silence so much?

I crave it.

Is it simply the silence? Putting off responsibilities of the day?

I think not since the washing machines hums in the background.

Is it just wanting uninterrupted time alone?

As my kids get older, I have that...even at work I have that.

That community I so often write about desperately needing, that's what I crave...but it's community of a different kind.

Seeking communion, not with other humans, but with the Holy. I think that's what I love about my early morning self imposed sequesters.

Communion.

Planned but never scripted, I simply seek and wait for the Holy.

And He's here in the quiet.

And He's here in His Words.

And He's here in the pages of books by authors throughout history who loved Him and sought Him out just like me.

And He's here in music and art and the silence.

And He's here even in the interruptions.

I used to worry when I couldn't concentrate on mornings like this. When it's hard to focus and my minds wanders. I used to think that somehow I'd miss Him because my mind jumped back and forth between eternity and earth. What a silly thought.

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.*

I can't miss Him because of a wandering mind--only because of a wandering heart.

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it

Prone to leave the God I love.

Here's my heart, Lord

Take and seal it

Seal it for thy courts above.

~Robinson: Come thou Fount

*the prophet Jeremiah (29:13)