Hiding in Secret Leads to a Solitary Party

Yesterday I awoke.

The summer sun gently began making rounds.  I pulled a shot from the trusty machine and sat, and spilled.  Discouraged, but slightly hopeful.  Slightly hopeful, because when one speaks of distress, hurt, anguish--community comes pouring.  

This is how it has always been, or how it should be.  We don't hold back the goodness inviting us to share with one who is hurt.  We want to be the Samaritan in the story.  We scoff at the priest & the Levite.  We exclaim, "We will not be like them."  

You friends, have been the Samaritan to me.  You friends have been the Jesus I have always loved.  

New mercies await me this morning.  There are jobs to be done, and each day requires new mercies to get through it.  This life we are given is a truly blessed one, but it doesn't quite feel so at times, does it?  Apathy stirs in our heart and we hold it secret.  Do we hold it secret in fear of what others think?  Do we hold it secret in fear of what might come of the trenches when we speak them?  

This morning, I know this.  I am not to keep silent those fears.  We are not to keep silent those fears.  Secrecy leads to an eternal solitary party that even God the party maker cannot join.  When I let those fears be known, it's an invitation to a party that God is throwing for me, for you, for all of us.

You've opened my ears so I can listen.

So I answered, "I'm coming.  I read in your letter what you wrote about me,

And I'm coming to the party you're throwing me."

That's when God's Word entered my life, became part of my very being. (The Message Ps 40)

God wants to throw me a party.  He wants me to delight in his good gifts, because he really is the best gift giver.  

I baked homemade blueberry scones this morning for my family.  Do you know my main motivation?  To see the delight in my girls eyes and intonation in their voice when they come to the table to see the gift.  It fills me.  Yesterday, I came to my knees broken, holding out the secrets of my inards towards God, towards you and the party planning began.  

The good Father smiling and giving a nod.  He breathed his Spirit in you to bring me presents.  And I know he is on the move making preparations for this new season for me and this little one who will be one of my best three gifts I've been priviledged to see to completion.  

Godspeed to you!

Finding Joy in Meal Preparation

The first part was written two years ago when my oldest was just beginning physical therapy for her sensory processing, low muscle tone & gross motor delays.  Worry overcame and this is me reminding myself to live mindful in the present.  

My heart is filled with joy when I see my little girl accomplish tasks that other children her age do seamlessly.

Her tiered dress

burgundy, orange, green

tendrils of locks spun up high

excitement permeates limb to limb

trusting & loving

concern for her sister asleep at home

squinty eyes, bright eyes

teeth grinning

What do I know right now about my V?  What do I know right now about my Tay?  

Mindfulness--being content with this moment.  My current happiness isn't dependent upon what will happen tomorrow, or next week.  Rather....

...it's the smells--sight--taste--sound--touch

************

When I stand at my small kitchen counter, with black cutting board & chef knife in hand, I get an opportunity to be mindful.  I have but one task (or two when interacting with two girls), which is to slice the onion in half for preparation.  Preparation for a medium chop and add to a hot pot.  Wield the carrots into my own culinary Lincoln log mirepoix.  

Garlic scapes diced.  Sauté.  Breathe in the earth in the pot, smells sweet and this is the moment I can thank the Sustainer of life I've been given.

A conversation with one of the girls pursues.  I chop, turn to look her in the eye, ask a question and listen while I chop more.  Sharing life in the preparation.

The meat is added and browns just so.  Eyeing while I stir and glancing to the imagination billowing out from the girls.  Eyeing the clock before the man bear comes home.  

Cooking creates pauses.  Pauses for melt downs.  Pauses for teaching.  Pauses for overcooked veggies while teaching how loving, sweet words are essential to the other sister.  Meal preparation can be a chore, but there is so much joy in the sensory explosion.  Curving the fingers just so while cutting.  Spices melding with fragrance.  Simmering of water bubbling.  Taste buds awakening to a bit more salt, a splash of red wine vinegar. 

The joy is found again at the table in the saying of thanks.  Chatter & live demonstration of swimming lessons from early that morning.  Two girls under five speaking gratitude, "Mama, this is a good dinner!"  Every plate empty, while bellies are nourished.  How can I not find joy in that preparing of food?  To know I've been given a moment in time to relish in the mindfulness of now.  As Jesus said on the mount, 

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

It's in these moments where we breathe in the gift of the present, and allow perfect love to cast out the fears of tomorrow.  It's why I find joy in meal preparation.

Table is a Luggage Trunk: Abby Sharing the Table

Over the course of what seems forever, I've wanted to create a gathering here. Where we get to inspire and encourage one another with our personal stories of how we share our table. My latest & last post at Sisters in Bloom was Share the Table. Sharing our tables is sacramental even in the mundane & ordinary.

Abby is my first guest at the table, which I'm very thankful to have her here. We met around the table at the once Relevant Conference drinking wine, talking food & life. It would seem that when you meet around the table, even if once, a connection begins to brew. That's how I feel about Abby.

Meet Abby: abby's first writing project, saved by a tickle - an examination of the intricacies of a brontosaurus/bunny friendship - won her great praise in the 3rd grade division of a local young author's conference. she's been trying to live up to her own hype - and perfect her crayon illustrations - ever since. current attempts take the form of poetry & prose at her blog home, dearabbyleigh.com, where she mixes metaphors and tries to keep her malapropism count to one a day. somewhere along the way she fell in love with twitter, stopped using capital letters, and started to enjoy cooking almost as much as eating.

our table is a luggage trunk,
pulled with care from my childhood garage
where it held our most beloved movies on VHS cassette.
i’ve since replaced fievel goes west with off-season linens,
and atop this treasure we eat.

to gather there most mornings is to sit cross-legged on the rug,
a posture of peace,
pomp-free fine dining.
each day begins with toast and strong coffee,
and from the ground level where i sip and sit,
everything looks most literally up.

by dinner i’m stretching tired legs in the same sweet spot.
if we’re lucky, the trunk is too small for the feast it’s to hold and dishes spill to the floor in every direction.
friends fill the furniture just out of reach, forcing deep leans into conversation,
heavy days all relieved by the gift of the gathering.

on more formal occasions, the trunk serves as buffet,
pushed aside for mismatched chairs and pop-up tables.
a banquet hall in our living room means there’s no where else to go,
and we’re all okay with that.

a dish may be seasoned with paprika or pepper,
cardamom, cashew, sriracha or sage,
these spices which roll off the same tongue they tickle -
they are magic, no?

but a table -
a table is flavored in posture.

the way we physically gather ’round sets the tone for the tasting.
a bar stool, a rocking chair, or pillows on the floor.
seats that put guests on the same level, or better yet -
leveled by the gift of what’s shared at the table.

i now share with you, my favorite gather-round-the-trunk dish:

harissa ravioli

from heidi swanson’s super natural everyday.

• 1 clove smashed garlic


• 1/4 tsp fine grain sea salt


• 2 Tbs fresh lemon juice


• 2 Tbs harissa*


• 1/4 cup e.v.o.o.


• 12 ounces cheese-stuffed ravioli or tortellini


• 8 ounces broccoli florets or broccolini trimmed to bite-size pieces


• 1/4 cup pepitas or sliced almonds or pine nuts (toasted)


• 1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese


• 5 or 6 black oil-cured olives, pitted, and torn to pieces

While water for the pasta boils, make the harissa oil. Sprinkle garlic with salt and chop into paste. Transfer to small bowl and stir in lemon juice, harissa, and olive oil. Add salt if necessary.

Salt the water and add ravioli. Boil until they float and are cooked through, just 1 or 2 minutes. Add the broccoli for the last 30 seconds, then drain and but in large mixing bowl. Toss with a few spoonfuls of the harissa oil and most of the nuts.

Turn onto a serving platter, top with rest of the oil, remaining nuts, cheese, olives and more! I like to add some sundried tomatoes if I have some on hand. Heidi says cauliflower or pan-fried Brussels sprouts are great too.

One dish = delicious! Share with your table sometime soon.

*I make my own harissa with 3 tsp paprika, 3 tsp coriander, 1/4 tsp cayenne, black pepper.