New recipes

Been trying stuff in the kitchen and here are two keepers.

HIGH FALUTIN' BREAKFAST TACOS

1 portabello mushroom, diced
1/4 c chopped onions
2 eggs, scrambled
handful fresh basil
4-6 tbsp crumbled feta
4 corn tortillas
salt
pepper

Over medium heat saute mushrooms and onions, salt & pepper to taste. I splashed a tbsp of water in to help things along.
Turn heat to low and pour eggs over, stir and cook to desired done-ness.
Remove from heat.
Heat tortillas (a  griddle is handy for this step). Put about a tbsp of crumbled feta on each tortilla. When feta is soften put a 4th of the egg mix on each tortilla, a few basil leaves, and serve.

~ I actually had this for lunch, but I really enjoyed my fancy pants breakfast tacos.

BREAKFAST CUSTARD

8" square or circular pan. Pie dish might work.
3 c. rolled oats
1/3 - 1 c. brown sugar
1 c. add-ons (dried or fresh fruit, chopped nuts, or both)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking powder
2 eggs beaten
1 c. milk
1/4 c. oil

Mix dried ingredients in pan. In separate bowl, beat eggs, stir in milk and oil. Pour into pan and mix thoroughly.
Place into COLD oven. Bake at 300. In my oven, it took 35 minutes for it to be firm on the outside and jiggly toward the middle. Start checking around 20-25 minutes. Cook time will vary oven to oven.

~A lot of variation can be introduced into this recipe in terms of spices and add-ons. But the ratio of 2 eggs to 1 cup of milk is important. Also starting with a cold oven is important. The idea is to slowly cook the eggs at a low temperature. A water bath is normally used for custard, but I don't want to deal with the extra step and gear.

Give me Jesus

So in the world of the elite, the big kerfluffle has been that a high powered woman has written a long article entitled Why Women Still Can't Have It All. By all, she means a prestigious work position and a satisfying family life. This kicked off a lot of discussion all over and some of it is collected here. I really liked my friend's personal response. She reflects on her own personal experiences and begins her final paragraph with this sentence, "Jesus never said we could have it all."

That crystallized my thinking on the matter. Not only did Jesus never say we could have it all, he said, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up the cross daily and follow me. (The good news according to Luke, chpt 9)”

I just read a novel set in World War I. It presented many leaders as selfish and incompetent causing many of their followers to suffer and die needlessly. Eventually, some simply stopped following. Jesus is the antithesis of these leaders, selfless and masterful.

Following, by definition, involves giving up some control because someone else is leading. Jesus doesn't gloss over this. He baldly told his hangers on, "Hey, if you decided to hitch on to my wagon train, you're going to have to give up what you want and you're going to take on a tortured death symbol (the cross)."

What separates Jesus from every other leader is that he is the rightful leader--as creator of the universe--and the good leader--as a loving omnipotent father.

So "How can I have it all?" or even "How can I have as much as possible?" is really the wrong question. The better question is, "Where does Jesus want me?" The best place we can be is wherever Jesus is taking us.

As an aside, that was my consolation when I was living overseas and got into a bus that had just slid a 100 yds on ice to a stop at my bus stop. I figured that if God had brought me there, he knew about crazy buses and ice and that I'd need them to get  to my work, and he'd take care of things from there.

So yes, I have been grieving many of the professional changes that motherhood has brought on, but I have not regretted the changes. For me, that's been part of denying myself, taking up my cross, and following Jesus. I read about a doctor mom who left her 9 month-old stateside to spend time setting up a clinic overseas. That kind of self-denial, cross-bearing, and following is something I hope I would never have to face. But she did it, she bore those costs trusting in the Jesus she was following.

In the end, perhaps what we may realize is that we have the most profound richness in life when we are most deeply entrenched in Jesus-life. And isn't that what we really want, to live rich, meaningful lives?

A college friend introduced me to Fernando Ortega's song, Give me Jesus. It's repetitive, but the meditation and plea is the substantive rebuttal to "How can I have it all?"

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus

Chorus:
Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus

When I am alone
When I am alone
When I am alone, give me Jesus

[Chorus]

When I come to die
When I come to die
When I come to die, give me Jesus

Affirmation

Affirmation, on the one hand, feels like a really namby-pamby, soft, needy word. On the other hand, my experience is that it can be a razor sharp blade that frees someone to be more of who they were made to be.

My deepest hurt, I've realized, about our current church is the lack of affirmation and the constant, relentless message that we are not doing enough, not doing what we are supposed to be doing. I've been grappling with this for some months now, and it feels good to be able to identify the pain, but also stunning to see it in black and white. Partly because the problem seems abusive. The beatings will continue until morale improves. But mostly because I believe in the vision and mission of the church and was so encouraged to find a community with such a heart. Additionally, I believe we are doing what we are supposed to be doing. I believe that we could, we should be affirmed.

To be honest, I don't know what to do about this. No community is perfect; I don't think we're looking for that. But I feel we are being ground under and I don't know what it would take to live free.

Hope deferred

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. ~Proverbs 13:12

We appear to be turning a significant household corner. Our son appears to be ready to sleep through the night and our daughter appears to be ready to wear regular underwear and use the toilet on her own. It's only been 3 days so far, but man are we ready for both of those breakthroughs.

We're a couple months shy of our 6th wedding anniversary and if I had to sum up year 6, at this point, I'd say grueling. We are so tired. We never thought either of these milestones could take so long for our kids.

At the same time, I think I have finally made peace with becoming a mom and have been able to enjoy the deep sweetness in it. The pleasure and satisfaction of parenthood is very difficult for me to express. I have never identified with and never liked what I considered to be saccharine, pastel renditions of mother-child relationships.

The best metaphor for a mom-moment is a memory I have of a summer in college when I worked in maintenance at a conference center. I had spent the whole day outside in the dust and dirt. I was tired and sticky. And somehow I got back to the showers first and had the whole place to myself. As the drops of hot water hit my arms, I was fascinated to watch little rivulets cut through the layer of grime.

That refreshment after a long day of physical labor is the best I can do to explain what it feels like today to see our children growing up and hitting milestones we have been hoping and praying for these past months.

Super Mom breaks a leg

At 4:45PM last Monday, I had homemade granola about to burn in the oven, a roast on the grill, a house that needed tidying for guests, a sticky almost-3 year old, and a fussy baby.

In a fit of SheerGenius(tm) while I had my son on the changing table I thought, "He's half undressed anyways, I should bathe the kids." And then in a moment of UtterStupidity(tm), I left him on the table to turn on the hot water.

In the interim, my daughter wet her underwear, and my son fell on the changing table and started screaming his head off.

Two days, many miles on the road, many interviews with nurses, doctors, social workers, a blood draw, urine sample and several dozen xrays later, my son's broken leg was in a cast and we were done with the "suspected non-accidental tauma" protocol.

I had a lot of time to review how we got to the fall. At the end of the day, I'd say it was 2 parts pride and 1 part selfishness.

I like having guests and I really like playing with meats on a grill. And then there's MyAgenda which includes baths for the kids on Mondays, making more granola when I run out like I had that morning--even though I certainly could have had something else for breakfast and could have made more another day, and having a basically presentable house by 6:30 on Mondays when friends come over for dinner or church small group.

I knew when I decided to do bath time right then, that I was trying to be Super Mom. For that matter, I knew when I started doing the granola that I was being a little crazier than I needed to be. But I wanted to be super. To have a list that I could show my husband, "See I do cool stuff with my day too!"

It's pretty devastating to realize that pride can literally come before a fall. Especially when the faller is your cute little boy who has no business bearing the brunt of your inner ugliness.

What is amazing, however, is that I don't have to live in mom guilt. My pastor likes to use the phrase "standing under the waterfall of grace". It's a pretty phrase, but it should be offensive too. The apostle Paul wrote, "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

That means that even though I screwed up, and I really did screw up, Jesus is not holding a stick over me and I'm not either. I am receiving a forgiveness I don't deserve; it's both-and. I don't deserve it and I am receiving it. I hope that kind of ticks you off.

We're about half way through Lent, charging our way to Easter where Jesus dies for the wretchedly ungodly and buys freedom for prisoners who deserve their sentences.

Hallelujah!

Disciplined Helplessness

One of my favorite summertime memories from childhood is swimming lessons. The lessons followed a Red Cross curriculum, so in addition to learning strokes, we also learned water safety stuff.

One thing we did in every class was the survival or dead man's float. All you do is hold your breath and put your face in the water. The air in your lungs keeps you floating and you relax all your limbs to conserve energy while you wait for someone to rescue you.

One reason I stopped writing blog entries the past 10 weeks is that I've been relearning my spiritual dead man's float. Last fall was really rough and after months of telling my husband I wasn't depressed, I had to admit that I probably was.

Depression isn't a new thing for me. I'd say it's kind of like my right hip. At the tender age of 26 I had hip surgery to smooth out a cartilage tear. After almost a year of physical therapy, I'm generally out of pain, but it's a weak joint that requires extra attention.

At 25, I had a major bout of depression. After a lot of counseling, a year of antidepressants, exercise, sunlight, the whole nine yards, I've been generally ok, but it's a tendency I have and I have to be vigilant about it.

What I learned the first time and what I'm learning this time is what I call disciplined helplessness. When I find myself sucked down the toilet bowl of depression, I live in general helplessness. Life sucks and it will always suck.

Disciplined helplessness is different. I am tired; Jesus can give me strength. I am grouchy; Jesus knows and helps me to be gentle and kind. I don't know what to do; Jesus has wisdom for me. I am not enough; Jesus is sufficient.

The mental script is different and I have to fight for it to play louder than my general helplessness. The fight isn't an overcoming fight; I'm not trying to win. I'm not able to win. It's about consistently falling in the direction of Jesus. Falling into his hope, falling into his strength, falling into his love.

The spiritual dead man's float is about not thrashing in panic, but staying afloat, and waiting for Jesus's sure rescue.

That's ugly

Somehow in the awesomeness of Christmas, the part where Herod kills all the baby boys in Bethlehem has never really hit home with me,

¹⁶ When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. ¹⁷Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:

¹⁸ “A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”

~The good news according to Matthew, chapter 2

My son is in the two-and-under age range and I know many families with young sons. I cannot fathom how devastating it would be for all of us to lose our sons on the basis of such a decree. Just the thought of it brings a deep ache.

When I first read this yesterday, I felt how can the loving gift of baby Jesus sit in the context of so much senseless death and weeping?

Our church community is in the midst of a venue change as we handle the needs of a numerical growth. At the same time, we have suffered the early passing of several members from disease.

It is very hard for me to accept goodness in the midst of death and suffering. I want good to be good and darkness to be absent. I want answers and I want justice.

And I don't get what I want.

So today, as I continue to process goodness and, let's call it what it is, evil, the only thing I can say is that sin is ugly. Evil is really evil. Herod was wrong. Disease is something God is going to banish when his ultimate victory and reign in the world come to be. Let that day come soon!

In the meantime, I realize that I tend to want to let sin slide. Or at least, the sin in my life. It's not that bad. But it is. It is a gross, disgusting affront to God when I am not kind and gentle with my children, when I don't watch what I say and what my tone is. And that's true no matter how tired I might be or how honestly annoying they are. Thank God, that he is bigger than my tongue and with his strength I can do differently.