breaking points

 All have breaking points. That point in time where we are stretched so thin, so tight, so tense that the very concept of breathing has become a new phenomenon.  We keep on functioning in a state of utter exhaustion and chaos that it becomes normal and what is really normal is simply a vague memory. We pick up our feet and keep moving forward, and when I say pick up our feet, I mean wearily trudge through life praying "God let there be an end, because if this continues in the after life, I rather skip the after life all together and just be allowed to sleep."
Yet, in the midst of all that subconscious chatter we convince ourselves we're ok. Our worlds are crashing in a cacophony of unrest, but as long as I have  (insert pitiful rationalization) under control, I'm fine. We hold on tightly, suffocating the life of that one think of sustaining us. The thing letting us know it's ok. Like a small child gripping a teddy bear, choking the neck until the seam has frayed, the stuffing fallen out, and even that one dash of hope has been made a mess. We cling to meaningless things, a coping mechanism that when ashes hit ashes and dust hits dust can only lead to ruin.
A chaotic type-a misery seeing her world fall apart in hysteria, "but at least I've got my body." Ten pound gain hits the scales. Life unravels. Hopelessness invades. Prevails. Conquered. Defeated.
Only at our breaking point do we come to the realization of how futile are the things we put our hope in. Letting tears run down our cheeks, releasing the  squeched ability to feel and recognizing what we' ve put our trust in. Grieving the loss of something naturally good, we are forced into surrender and discover the inner cravings of our soul, neglected, starving, and pushed to the side for something that can never fulfill.
At our breaking point we recognize the true hopelessness of ourselves and a hope in a salvation that comes from something greater. So as we release we no longer have to cling, because we are embraced and empowered to rise again. Overcome the obstacles and take back our lives. Out of the wreckage we draw pearls of wisdom and a strength we did not know we possessed.
Indeed, breaking points are beautiful things if we let them be. 

Pferrneuse

O my gosh! So I love downton abbey yesterday I made some ccookies straight from the mansion. About a week ago Sue came into the bou and said "I've been baking cookies all day, and sweetie, you need to try these."

Pferrneuse
definitely my new favorite cookie.
Spicy with anise and molasses.  Scrumptious i
s how I would describe them.



Ingredients needed to make Pfeffernusse (amount depends on size):

1/4 cup shortening
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup butter
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
4 cups flour
1 tsp. ground allspice
1 tsp. ground ginger
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tsp. crushed anise seeds
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. ground black pepper
1/2 tsp. salt
Powdered sugar for dredging (coating)
Steps:

Pre-heat your oven to 325 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone sheet.
Into a mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the shortening, molasses, butter, eggs, sugar and brown sugar until light and creamy, about 5 minutes.
In large bowl, whisk the flour and the remaining ingredients, except the powdered sugar, until combined.
Add the flour mixture to the butter and beat until a stiff dough forms.
Chill the dough 1 hour.
Using a small cookie scoop, scoop out portions of the dough and place them on the prepared baking sheet.
Place into the oven and bake 15 minutes.
Remove from the oven and let cool on a rack.
Once cooled, dredge (coat) the Pfeffernusse in powdered sugar.

dying to live

If anyone is to hold on to his life he will lose it, but if anyone would give up his life for my sake will find it. --Matthew 6:25

 Live in a worls seeking life...seeking hope, joy, peace, and love...
They hourly work week has sky rocketed. Seeking fulfillment that can be found in a store, we run ourselves to the ground in burnout, and for whatm...most people I know spend their weekly earnings getting smashed so they can forget the hellofa week they had. Ah isn't that the life? And if it isn't booze, it's food, movies, the latest samsung x galaxy phone...we want more and more and more, because at the end of the day we are searching for fulfillment, but are lost clinging to a less than satisfactory means to satisfy a craving for life...we're We're all looking for something. Me especially, trying to navigate through thi a cloud of fog my friends have begun to call my life. It has become clear I am in need of some serious direction..maybe even intervention...
and as I sit here pondering the meaning of my life I look to Ruth. Moabite. Foreigner.  Reject. Widow. The whole gammot of purposelessness fits her description. In a man's world where your worth is determined by the value of your husband, if you don't have a husband, you're screwed, and that's where we find our girl. The one strand of hope she has is a mother-in-law blessing her to go home and get herself a man. Go get yourself a purpose and let your life begin. How often do I feel this. Go out and do something. Find your point in living. Discover what you want and life and do it.
And this is ruth's response...
"I will not leave yoy. Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God."
Embracing a widow's curse, she clung to death, a life of lost purpose.
And how does the story end?
Her value was restored. Her worth tripled. The salvation of the world was birthed from her womb. Her blood flowed through kings.
And I'm left to wonder, all these things to which I've been clinging, what would it mean to let go? To let the purpose I thought I had be put to death and embrace a new horizon?

Papa, I am so prone to become distracted by the things this world values. Reveal to me the life I'm dlstriving for that needs to die so that I may truly grasp the meaning of life abundant.  

relying on innocence

Question of the day: where is your hope?
So much in this walk of life I find myself striving, slowly dying,as I press on in the self-righteous pursuit of perfection.
Living right. . Being kind. Only speaking the nice things that pop into my mind and the other...? Taking them captive, of course.
Then a fall. As my my mother's mother, and her mother, all the way down the generation.  A fatal plague to haunt humanity.
My mouth a flickering flame that dare consume the f forest.  Destruction is reaped in itspath and I'm left to greive my long-lost sense of holiness. I'm gripped by the evidence that I am perfectly imperfect.
I shudder in the presence of one who is. And though these words are not original,  they are all I have in th we preaence of the Holy.
"Woe is me. My lips are unclean, and I come by it honestly.  My family, nation, people of earth are sinful and we are in ruin."
Then the one greater than I takes the coal, purges my lips, and says the words my heart yearns for. " you are forgiven.
How sweet a gift I cannot buy for myself.
To rely on myself is to miss the revelation od my salvation. Something that that can only be given and accepted in grace.
My salvation is not founded on innocence but a gift that cannot be bought.  

choices

We all have choices. 

These words of timely advice sit in my head as I wait in limbo. 

You always have a choice, and the embracing of this reality is the first step in power, empowerment for yourself and power to truly change the world.

values, beliefs, thoughts, behaviors.  

All start with a choice. 

And there I sat with a choice. 

Disregard my reason for existence or shine in the darkness as light. 

And I chose. 

I chose life. 

For how can I deny my source yet still remain living. If a branch seeks to destroy the tree does it not realize it will destroy itself.  

So I a branch submitted to the entity that is greater than I. Embracing the life, abundant life, I have been given. 

Choices.  I had one. I made it. And I chose life.

listen

 In the quiet. A still, small voice whispering my name. The tenderness of a lover. Truly the gentleness only one so enamored could hold. It's the draw of intimacy.  Something so craved by the world, yet so few beings come to find. Though some may encounter a vague shadow none may experience its purest form unless they have come in contact with the Divine.
The Divine: omniscient, all powerful, creator.
One may only be fully known when known by that which is its source.
I am fully known, for my heart has been enthralled by one greater than I. He has captivated my very being.  I am not my own.  I belong to the one who knit me together in my mother's womb. In His way I will delight
,being brought into perfection as I find myself perfected in Him.
To find intimacy is to have your name whispered so no one else can hear,but you hear and secrets are made known to yourheart.
I have intimacy with divinity.  I am known. 

St. Nick's Day

All the children snuggled in bed, stuffing slippers with presents they would find the next day. This is what people would have expected me to be doing Christmas Eve, but indeed, this was what I did last night. Sitting up late, I helped my friend cram goodies and treats into brand new slippers for her children to come from St. Nick for St. Nick's Day (Dec. 26). Though celebrated in Europe, this tradition is largely forgotten in America. However, as my friend would say, "it's nice to keep Jesus as Jesus and Santa as Santa. Sure, let's get presents and have fun celebrating one another and gift giving, but let's not pretend to be celebrating the King of Kings when we're really celebrating ourselves."
I love this idea, and loved hearing about all the happy smiles in the morning.
Happy St. Nick's Day!

O Come, Emmanuel

Emmanuel, the
savior of  the world. My soul
finds hope in divine.

Emmanuel. God with us. Those words have become near cliche in our 21st Century mindset of holiday and Christmas time. However, the power behind them is astonishing. God, becoming man. Divine, taking on flesh to show his love to the ones he created. That is the hope of the world. We are loved. We are seen. We are not alone, because One came down to where we were to give us life, love, and purpose. In becoming human, he raised humanity to divine. That is the blessed hope. We have God with us. Emmanuel.

Let the waters rise...

Sometimes I feel like I don't know what is going on.
My life is consistently inconsistent.
The only certainty of constancy is the Lord.
So that's what I'll hold on to.

Ecclesiastes: Injustice and the Gospel

I was talking with a friend this morning about Ecclesiastes. Her church has been studying, and ironically so have I. The first few chapters are all about injustice and evil in the world. About sin, and how no matter what we do, that will never change. No matter how good we are. No matter how we best try to live our lives. There will always be evil. Then we die. That's our lives.
However, the blessed hope is that we do die someday. Only then are we released from all the injustice in the world, both inflicted on us and that which we inflict. Until then, we are saved only by having a savior willing to sit with us through the storm.
I've been struggling lately. I see so many areas in my life where I don't measure up. Where I've never measured up. And the truth of the matter is that there always will be those areas. However, there is someone who's working that out with me. It doesn't give me an excuse to keep going about in the wrong, but it empowers me to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going. 

Chopped!

Before

After

Today I did something I haven't done in a while, but was very worth it. I chopped off my hair. 16 inches of locks all snipped. In the middle of no makeup November I decided to cut them and donate it. I'm craving a new start. Fresh beginning. It's time to let go of old ways and go into the new! Pony Up for Pantene!

Ecclesiastes 1

All Is Vanity

1 The words of the Preacher,[a] the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

2 Vanity[b] of vanities, says the Preacher,
    vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
3 What does man gain by all the toil
    at which he toils under the sun?
4 A generation goes, and a generation comes,
    but the earth remains for ever.
5 The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
    and hastens[c] to the place where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
    and goes round to the north;
round and round goes the wind,
    and on its circuits the wind returns.
7 All streams run to the sea,
    but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
    there they flow again.
8 All things are full of weariness;
    a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
    nor the ear filled with hearing.
9 What has been is what will be,
    and what has been done is what will be done,
    and there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there a thing of which it is said,
    “See, this is new”?
It has been already
    in the ages before us.
11 There is no remembrance of former things,[d]
    nor will there be any remembrance
of later things[e] yet to be
    among those who come after.

The Vanity of Wisdom

12 I the Preacher have been king over Israel in Jerusalem. 13 And I applied my heart[f] to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven. It is an unhappy business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. 14 I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.[g]

15 What is crooked cannot be made straight,
    and what is lacking cannot be counted.

16 I said in my heart, “I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.” 17 And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after wind.

18 For in much wisdom is much vexation,
    and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.

Significance

Significance. n. The quality of being worthy of  attention....

Papa, may I see my significance in you. 

In the prescence

Stillness. Sudden break
of noise to restore healing
and inner peace. Life

--Today I was challenged to sit and be made well.
It's hard for me to sit. Be alone. Anyone that has followed my journey knows this.
Even when I am still. By myself my mind was racing. However today i was deliberate.
Today I chose to simply be. I entered into the stillness of my mind. Today I found peace. 

Identity piece

When I was younger I heard a man say "If you paint a picture thinking 'what will this look like in the gallery'" you're missing the point." And for some reason beyond my understanding that resonated with me, because there was some creative force inside that could not be silent, needed to be expressed, and that expression was who I was. I knew that I was an artist. As i grew by skills and abilities were strengthened and this gift was affirmed, until it was no longer just a gift. Just a skill. It was me. The very essence of the drawing was not simply a reflection, but a revelation so deep that it carried my very soul. I was my work and my work was me. There was no separation and it was within that that I found all purpose. All meaning in life. It was my identity.
And still, I grew. In wisdom, in ability, in praise I was received for who I perceived I was. I couldn't imagine doing anything different. Could see myself walking in a different life or light, This was my lime light, my stage. The place where I shined like the stars and it was that which I was called. In all my glory I displayed who I was for all to see and they loved me. Then the curtain call. As the critiques drew their pens and made slashes to the page, my soul became the target of the endless ridicule game, and all I was expected to say was "ouch?"
So small reaction for the tearing of one's soul. As one stabbing my chest, to rip out my heart. Hold it in their hands as it is still beating....beating....and they throw it on the ground to make their point.
I am worthless.
What is that precious piece of work you called art? My soul...my life...my everything....Displayed for the world to see just to be destroyed.
Yet here I am....Still alive....barely breathing as all that I ever thought I was has been put to death and now waiting to be revived. Oh death where is your sting? Wouldn't it be sweeter if you would just come to me. Draw your sword and put to death the rest of my being, because what I thought I was is gone and here I am still standing.
So I stand, In shock and awe, trying to grasp the concept that there is so much more to me than I ever thought. I am more.
My gifts. My calling ripped away. I'm still here.
Surprise.
I am strong. I am a woman. I am in process. And sometimes. yes, sometimes I am weak, but that will not make me defeated. I am a warrior. I am a fighter. But more than anything, I am a child, called out. chosen. adopted. Those are things that can never be defined through a calling or a skill-set. Likewise, never taken away by the proclamation of whoever thinks they're in authority at the time. And if I were to paint a picture of who I am it would display the glory of my Father who rescued me from the pit. I am alive. No one can change that. That man who said that thing about a picture hanging in a gallery. He was right,  because I am so much more than a exhibit to be on display to entertain. I am an expression of divine love, and my art is an expression of me. I am an artist, and in that I reflect all the Father has made me, his beautiful child, creating in his image as he made me. 

When life gives you lemons, make a face scrub

So I've been doing some reading on things good for your face and skin, and lemons are one of the things I found are beneficial! So today I made a lemon-sugar face scrub and WOW! Softest my face has been since birth. What did I do?

1Tbsp Sugar
1 Slice Lemon
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. 

Seriously, try it.

And for a little fun, here are 10 fun facts I found on the World Wide Web about the benefits of lemons for your skin:

1. Heal Acne and remove black heads
2. Lighten dark spots and blemishes
3. Help prevent oily skin
4. Soothe chapped lips
5. Natural skin cleanser
6. Helps remove scars
7. Exfoliates
8. Moisturizes
9. Fights Wrinkles
10. Helps fight skin cancer

Farmer's Market Muffins

So Wednesday I went to the farmers market with my roomies! Best investment yet. Apart of my skin cleansing, I know I need to start eating with intentionality. Being mindful. I'm so good at simply eating off the food shelf. However, if I want to care for myself, my body, and my well being, I'm recognizing, being intentional is key. Therefore I went to the farmers market and came home with enough food to maybe not have to shop for the rest of the month. Carrots (lots of carrots). Pumpkin. Kale. Collards. pomegranate. All for under $5. That's what I call a deal. Plus I got some inspiration for imagination. I deciding to make some muffins that could make my skin glow, a boost of nutrition, and tastiness for my tummy. I took these to a community event and they were a hit! Love it when that happens. Enjoy!

Farmer's Market Muffins

1 Cup pumpkin puree (can pumpkin works as well)

1/4 cup almond milk

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp ginger

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1 cup brown rice flour

1/2 cup oatmeal

2 tsp baking soda

3 medium shredded carrots

2 small apples shredded 

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease regular-size muffin tins

2. In bowl, mix pumpkin, milk, and spices. Add flours, oats, sugar, and baking soda. Stir just until dry ingredients are moistened. Stir in carrots and apples. Divide batter evenly among cups. 

3. Bake 20-25 min or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Remove from tins immediately and let cool. Best served warm. (Who doesn't love a warm muffin?) 

Living in the Presence

Sometimes I just sit and ask myself, "What am I doing with my life." I feeling like I'm just on this earth, chilling. Nothing special. For the first time in my life, I don't have a direction. I don't have a focus. I have no dream or vision!

There. I said it, and maybe now that it is out in the open it will become a little more okay. However, with this directionless, I find myself floundering. Desiring purpose. I crave it, and find myself tempted to chase after every passing thing. Desiring more. To have more. Do more. Be More. My lack of zest has lead to lack of zeal and this lack of zeal leads to insecurity...fear....anxiety...loss of identity.

Seeking identity. Realizing I have been stripped down, bare bone and soul, I realize that so many things I have found purpose in. So many things I have made my essence. My being. but in the end what were they? All passing...a chasing after the wind....And I'm shaken to the foundation. Clinging, I loose sight of who i am, and whose I am. Comparing, I grow anxious and back away, hiding from relationship...I talk my self down, not wanting to appear full of pride...desiring significance i gossip and use sarcasm. Classic. Pushing people down in order to make myself feel better about myself. Like a child.

What makes a woman? Where is that security found? In the quiet confidence that results in the ability to enter in to relationship. Walk in the knowledge off who I am and what I have to offer. To be strong enough to encourage and embrace, needing to hold nothing back. Where does this come from?

I see it. It's what I want. And when I stop and listen I know the beginning. It's in the living. In the consistent knowledge of knowing I'm never alone. To live in the presence of the almighty. Seeking him first so that I may recognize his beauty in all. To see myself as he sees me, that I may look at others through his lens as well. To know I belong, because I've been giving a room in my Father's mansion. To walk humbly in my giftings, and exercise in my calling, because it is what I was made to do. To have the conviction of my identity as a daughter of the king that I may raise us those, especially those that have nothing to give in return.

So often I run around my day, hearing, but not listening. aware, but not acknowledging the presence of the living God that abides with me. However, if I miss the source of all things, how can i bear fruit for his glory. I keep on praying for purpose. for vision. maybe this is it, to simply decide to live each day for him, living in the mindfulness of his presence, that I may know my identity in him, and bear the fruit of his power.


Create in me a clean heart oh God, and renew a right spirit in me,
change me and make me new. may I be like you.
May the words of my mouth and meditation of my heart be pleasing to you Oh Lord my God
that I may dwell in your house forever. Amen. 

Naked and Afraid

Today I started a little bit of a journey. During November there is the classic celebration of beards, "No Shave November." It's the embracing of total manhood by the means of growing facial hair. It's the pride and joy of a man to have a furry face. But what about for the ladies? I mean, call me a feminist, but I think it's a little lame that us women can't have a celebration and liberation. I mean, I guess I could go the whole month without shaving my legs...but let's be real, I like furry knees as much as the man who's thinking about taking me out for coffee.

So for, me, I'm taking it back to my face with less focused on what I'm putting on, and more on what I'm taking off. "No make-up November"! In resonance with the Season of the Tree, I am going to embrace my natural beauty. Refusing to hide those circles under my eyes, or the lips I wish were fuller. I am who I am. A treasure.

However, beauty is more than skin deep, and so is a season of embracing every part of me. Exposing my many layers, as the tree looses its leaves, it's glory and lies bare before the elements. So I dare to let my entire being find freedom.

I am learning I am more than what I do. I am who I am. I am a being. Letting my walls fall down, the face fall off. The charade comes to an end as the lipstick fades and eyeliner rubs off. I see the sleep deprived eye lids and a half-beating heart. I see that I am everything and nothing all at once. I'm discovering what I am and what I'm not. Peeling back the layers, I discover intimacy with myself, and force myself to be content with what I am now, and look forward to the willing embrace I hope to find. 

Caribou Confessions

Confession 1: Sometimes to cope with those customers that don't tip, yet feel so entitled, I pretend I'm a character on Downton Abbey and think, "What would Anna do?"

Sing like no one's watching...

Today I sang.
I know that doesn't sound like a big thing to some. I mean, I kind of sing all the time, at least subconsciously. However, today is the first time, in a long time, that I sat on a stage, microphone to my mouth, and belted my lungs towards an audience.
To some this isn't a big deal, but to those that have been following this musical renaissance in my life, they would know this is a big deal.
Growing up music became my life. It was an identity. Singing was something that shaped the very core of my being. An outlet...an art...a medium of worship. Then I got into high school and choir. Chamber choir, contests, all-state. It all wrapped up into this obsession with perfection. This obsession with being the best. Before long every fault I found in others' voices and my own pierced my ears. I could no longer sit in a concert hall and enjoy the melodies without critiquing the artist and performance. Upon hearing talent greater than my own, an overwhelming sense of jealousy came over me.
So I quit. I quit singing. I quit music all together. Refusing to sing in school, in a choir, even during worship at church. I had been so engulfed by this idea that if I couldn't be perfect, than I needed to just work harder or be better. The thought that my voice was enough...I was enough never crossed my mind. An obsession...in a sense, music became my god. And I knew this was wrong.
I had to get my priorities straight before I would allow myself to sing again, so I took a year off from everything. The next year I began singing in the shower....when I thought no one was around to hear...later I found out everyone could hear. The next year I started fiddling with a guitar... and now this summer I traveled to India, maybe with the soul purpose of singing with one little girl.
Then today I sang and played guitar at an open mic. I was nervous the whole day, and when 7 o'clock (the time of the mic) ticked, I was shaking in my boots. There were several people with guitars, ready to sing and share. Then my leader said, "Kayla, why don't you sign up first so that others will feel comfortable?"
Yikes! Was it not apparent that I was nervous as all get out?
Guess not. I shoot my head with intimidation, but signed up anyway. So I was first to go, ready to set the standard low.
Deep Breath. Finally the MC takes the stage.
I'm ready. Keep breathing.
He announces, and he announces a name other than mine.
The four year old girl in the back of the room trots up to the stage and takes the mic.
All acapella, she lets loose, "Twinkle, Twinkle, little star..."
Cuteness rushed over the room. Who knows if she was slightly off key or missed the rhythm. No one cared. No one noticed. It wasn't what or how she was singing that one the audience, it was the fact that she sang.
Then I heard a soft voice whisper to my heart, "That's how I feel about you."
Suddenly I realized, it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter how it sounds, or if it's off. My guitar may be out of tune, but none of that matters. What matters is that I sang.
Sure, I'll try to hit the right notes and carry a tune in a bucket, but even if I don't the point is that I'm singing, and if I'm singing I will shine.
And all of us shined, as I got up and sang a song to my dear friend, as another girl sang a song she wrote (dang that takes guts, maybe some day), a friend read some poetry, and another guy rapped. As we did, Abba said, "I'm proud of you." The crowd agreed.
Sometimes we hide our gifts, our talents, because we're afraid of being judged or criticized. However, if we continue to hide them, what use are they. We may not always get it right, but the point is that we use them.

"Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and praise your Father in heaven." -Matthew 5:16

Maple-"Pumpkin" Spice Syrup and Glaze

Maple "Pumpkin" Spice Syrup

Flopped donuts with glaze

This morning I made dutch babies (puffy oven pancakes) for my house and made this tasty Syrup using the soup! It tasted like a pumpkin syrup! Then I had some left over so I added powdered sugar and made a glaze which I used when I attempted to make some donuts. The donuts were a flop, but the glaze was delicious. I'll try to doctor up the donuts and maybe we'll have a future blog post, but for now, the glaze. :) Yum!

Maple "Pumpkin" Spice Syrup

2 Tbs Boxed Sweet Potato Soup

Dash each cinnamon, all spice, nutmeg, and cloves

3/4 cup maple syrup

Mix all together, heat in microwave 30 seconds and enjoy over pancakes, dutch babies, french toast and more.

*For glaze, add 1 cup powdered sugar and mix well.

Peter

So Spirit lead me where my faith is with out borders. Let me walk upon the water wherever you may call me--Oceans by Hillsong

When Jesus renamed Simon, Peter, he was calling him "Little Rock." This is ironic, because at the end of the parable about the wise man who built his house up on the rock and the foolish man who built his house upon the sand, Jesus refers to himself as Petra, "Big Rock."  This name change wasn't to say that Peter had arrived at the "goal," but a prophesy of who he would become. This was a summons, a call, a promise to Peter that he was forming him into his likeness.With each step onto the water, Jesus was forming Peter into rock on which he would build his church. With each step towards Jesus, Peter was leaving behind the identity he found in Simon, the fisherman. He was finding a new identity as Peter, the Rock.

This has caused me to reflect on the identities the Lord has called me to leave behind in a pursuit to follow after him. With each step upon the water, I have left behind identities found in performance, guilt and shame, control, anger, image, fear,lies, and even calling. With each step I walk fuller in the light of an identity formed in authenticity, confidence, freedom, joy, belonging, courage, truth, and being. I am a child. I am made in the likeness. However, each step takes a fighting for. I have to be willing to leave behind all that I have ever known. All that that seems logical to walk in a new knowledge that defies rational and reasoning. I have to be willing to lay down my own thoughts, to walk in the faith that is set before me.

It is the hardest thing in the world, but Abba, if it is what will shape me into your likeness, bring it on. Take me deeper. Let me walk upon the waters, and when my mind slips back to where I use to be, catch me, guide me that I may radiate your glory. Because where I am weak, you are strong. When I slip, oh how your redemption, grace, and mercy is illuminated for the world to see. May I be a beacon of hope. May my life shine into the darkness, drawing wandering ships to the lighthouse.

Save the Soup!: Day 2: Oatmeal Flax Sweet Potato Pecan Bread

Yum yum! This bread was fantastic! Probably one of the best breads I have ever made. Just replaced the milk in my oatmeal flax bread recipe and voila!

Best Ever Oatmeal Flax Sweet Potato Pecan Harvest Bread (AKA Mouthfull Bread)

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup old-fashioned oats
1/3 cup ground flax seed
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 2/3 cup boxed sweet potato soup
1/4 cup chopped pecans
1 Tablespoon old-fashioned oats

1) Heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 8x4 loaf pan with cooking spray
2) in large bowl mix flours, brown sugar, 1/2 cup oats, flaxseed, and baking soda. Stir in soup and pecans just until mixed. Pour batter into pan and sprinkle with 1 Tablespoon oats.
3) Bake 45-55 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan on cooling rack 5 minutes. Remove from pan to colling rack. Cool completely, about 2 hours. 

Save the Soup!

So I live off a community food shelf. Welcome to the poverty of the post grad. Eating food from the reject section of the store. Actually, I'm making this sound worst than it is. Generally, our food is really good. All organic apples, gluten free flour, fresh blueberries in October. Last week we even go sweet potato soup,  boxes upon boxes of it. Sounds good in theory, but reality would beg to differ. probs some of the worst soup i've ever had. That also means i'm up for a challenge of trying to find as many ways as possible to redeem the orange mess. 

After a couple flopped attempts at mix-ins, i decided to veer away from soup all together and went for curry! voila! taste supremo! And here's the recipe for all my friends in conveinienced by the boxes. Stay tuned tomorrow. I also made bread, but I'm gonna wait to post that specialty. 

Sweet Potato Veg Curry

1 Cup Sweet Potato Soup
1 Can Vegetable Soup (Or 1 Cup minestrone soup left over from community meal
Dash thyme
1/2 tbs curry seasoning
Dash red pepper flakes
1 tsp flour or cornstarch
Brown rice (optional) (Also left overs from when we had the Duran Clan over for soup leftover from the community meal :)

In a Fry Pan combine sweet potato soup and drained vegetable soup. Add spices. Bring to a boil, add flour to thicken and simmer until thickened. Enjoy served over rice. Yum Yum :)
Makes about 2-4 servings.

Orchards and Pie

 Apple Orchards are such a treat!
Honey Crisp Apples I love to eat!

Today I had the joy of going to an apple orchard with some of my dearest friends. We romped down the rows and frolicked through the trees to "secret apple-picking spots" like we were 8 years-old again. Joys upon joys. And i was reminded friendship and apple orchards are two beautiful things, and somehow they both lead to family: a sense of belonging and togetherness. 

Snapping photos at the orchard also reminded me that I had pictures on my camera for some freezer apple pie filling i was meaning to blog about about a month ago, so treats for the readers: 2 for one blog post, read about all my sentiments on apple picking and get a freezer pie recipe all in one. 

P.s. the pie was made from my mom's all organic apples she picked off her own tree. impressed? enjoy !

Step 1. Slice, dice, peel, and core fresh apples. nummy!

Step 2:  Measure 6 cups apples into bowl

Step 3. Add 1/4 cup sugar

Step 4. Add 2 Tbsp each cinnamon and flour, 1 Tbsp each  nutmeg and cloves

Step 5. Place in freezer bags and label. Freeze until ready to use. Serving suggestion: use in pie, crisp, heat and serve on ice cream, make homemade apple sauce. 

Tending my garden.

I was flipping through some photos today and it dawned on me, wow my whole life I've really been blessed with friendship in every season. I also realized a sad truth, in that season I rarely have recognized it. So consumed by feelings of worthlessness and shame, rarely have I looked out to see the blessings that await me. People who truly care if I would let them in. So this is my season. This is the journey I'm on. Discovering Home. Discovering I belong, and I always have. I'm working on embracing it, the good. The bad. The messy. The uncomfortable. All of it is apart of me, and all of it belongs. I'm learning to be embraced. I think that's the hardest of all. If it's just me and my mess, I can figure out how to deal with that. stifle it, hate myself, close myself off from people. But to be embraced despite of it...? that's unthinkable. And maybe that's why I need to learn it.

I don't know when the lie started forming, but I know it's been there for a while. Seeded in the crevices of my mind and taking root, an unquenchable weed daring to choke the life out of the flower that dared to blossom. I don't know where it started, but it's been there since ever I could remember. "Your hateful." the rancid venom stings my soul.
"Unwanted"
"Unloveable"
"A reject."
And i digress, spiraling away into retreat. Holding people close, but only at arms length. Superficial living. Never truly believing that i could be...loved. I sheet of glass between me and the ones that maybe, possibly I could find love. But love is just a figment of the imagination which means possibility is really impossibility in the end. So I've been stuck in this rut. A mental mind trap, mulling over lies probability. However, the longer meditate, the more relativity shifts to reality and I have found that I've been living in this state where I not only hear
"Reject."
"Unloveable."
"Unwanted"
I believe it.
I am it.
I am hateful.
So undeserving of affection or a truly open, honest conversation that does not require the sacrifice of who I really am to appease to the likes of someone else's preference. Instead, a masking of the real me becomes the norm until I don't know how to do much more than fake it with the ones I call my friends.
However, my mantra's "fake it till you make it." So maybe if I just pretend to be pretty enough, good enough, smart enough, happy enough, maybe just maybe I will obtain the goal and I'll no longer have to pretend. Again, the impossibility of possibility becoming reality, but I can dream.
Still, I'm no fool and I know a dream is only reality until you wake up and that's when I find that I'm still me.
The way I always have been. Always will be. And I continue holding all the spectators at arms length, longing to embrace as long as they stand ten feet away to avoid catching a glimpse at all my imperfection. But I wonder what could be if I let the walls fall down around me. To break the glass I believed was a boundary, but really only turned out to be a cage. And I see, possibly, quite probably, honesty is the best policy, to let made known the truth of who I am, unashamed. To up root the weed inside my head that screams:
hateful,
unwanted,
unloved,
reject,
and replace it with the seeds that blossom life.
You're accepted,
you are wanted.
you are loveable.
you are home.
Tending the garden
of my heart, lies uprooted,
a flower bed blooms.

Home

So the Lord has me on a journey currently, but less of a journey and more of a resting. He has me in a season of not so much adventure, but more meditation, and apart of this is a discovery of what it means to dwell. A dwelling. A place of inhabitants. A home. But what does that word mean. Home. We some times think of a house or that common phrase "home is where the heart is" but my quest is to discover what does home mean.

In this process I'm starting on an art project. One in which  I need a little help. Some voluntary participation. I'm asking people. All people. Friends. Family. Strangers in the community.

"What does home mean to you?"

Then i'm going to compile all the answers into an artistic expression. 

So want to know how you can participate? 

Email your answer to homemeanstome@gmail.com and share with your friends. 

Can't wait to see your answers. Love Ya!

Restoration

Overwhelmed is a word and world I am becoming faintly familiar with. Chaos has been creeping into the cracks of my life and leaves me screaming, "Slow Down!" Consistently confused, and I regret to admit, slightly depressed, I find it a struggle to sift through the layers of what is going on in my life. A lot of it has to do with transition out of college, into real life, having 2 jobs, shifting communities, and some other things far to personal to share on a blog. I find my self distracted. Loosing sight and focus of where I am and whom I'm called to, I find it quite easy to slip into frequent melt downs. Now to top it all off, I'm sick. What a week!

Seeking the Lord, I felt lead to read Ezra this morning. The story of the temple being rebuilt. It begins, "This goes to fulfill the words spoken by the prophet Jeremiah." So I turned to Jeremiah and began reading about struggle. Israel and Judah's struggle of whoredom, turning away from the Lord who loved them to worship the works of their own hands. They began to serve the gods of foreigners, so the Lord delivered them into exile to serve foreigners. The Lord lays out a list of destruction for the ways that he is going to lead Israel to ruin, but in chapter 5 there is a breath of hope. The Lord says "But I will not make a full end of you." This is a promise that the Lord will restore. The Lord then continues into a list of ways that he will restore Israel. And I realize that is the beauty of the Gospel. The Lord restores. He always tears down so that he can rebuild.

Right now, between being sick, a little depressed, and fairly overwhelmed, I am in ruin. As the temple, I have been brought down. So the Lord says, but I will restore. That is redemption. There is Hope!

Now is the time for transformation. To seek the Lord, to remember what he has called me to. He's called me to dwell in this season. To find myself at home with him. He has called me to belonging, to belong to him. But not to let those stop with me, but let it overflow that others may find a home and belonging through interacting with me. Anything I do outside of this is a little bit of rebellion in my own heart, striving to fulfill my need to do more. Be more, when the Lord has just called me to be and he will be the more.

I'm in process. Not all the way there yet, but I will be. I'm coming. The Lord is restoring me. The Gospel is that Christ came, as flesh, to put to death flesh so that we could rise to full life. I'm being brought into full life.

Question of the Day: How is the Lord transforming you. 

The Sparrow

How lovely is your dwelling place,
    O Lord of hosts!
2 My soul longs, yes, faints
    for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh sing for joy
    to the living God.
3 Even the sparrow finds a home,
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
    my King and my God.
4 Blessed are those who dwell in your house,
    ever singing your praise! Selah
5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
    in whose heart are the highways to Zion.[b]
6 As they go through the Valley of Baca
    they make it a place of springs;
    the early rain also covers it with pools.
7 They go from strength to strength;
    each one appears before God in Zion.
8 O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer;
    give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah
9 Behold our shield, O God;
    look on the face of your anointed!
10 For a day in your courts is better
    than a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
    than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
11 For the Lord God is a sun and shield;
    the Lord bestows favour and honour.
No good thing does he withhold
    from those who walk uprightly.
12 O Lord of hosts,
    blessed is the one who trusts in you!--Psalm 84

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[e]?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.--Matthew 6:25-34

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

---