Category: Faith

Amy Carmichael

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O Thou in whose right hand were seven stars,

And whose right hand was on Thy servant laid,

How tender was Thy touch, Thy word, Be not afraid.

Thou who didst say, O man greatly beloved,

Fear not, and, Peace be unto thee, be strong,

What wealth of grace and mercy doth to Thee belong.

 

Thy touch, Thy word, and lo, like to a cloud

That was but is not in the fields of air,

So is the fear we feared; we look, it is not there,

Dissolved, departed, banished by Thy touch.

Oh, as we pray, purge us from every fear,

Thou who dost hold the stars, our Lord, art Thou not here?

 

Thou Givest…They Gather

Amy Carmichael

pg 31

Story

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Stories are beautiful. The Bible is the ultimate Story of God’s Love and redemption for mankind. The glorious Psalms full of pain, realness, and praise. The thread of promise woven throughout the Old Testament. The joy, love, and light stirred underneath the persecution and suffering in the New Testament. Have you ever thought about how important story is to our lives? Jesus used story often when sharing truths with the disciples and the crowds that surrounded Him. Nature often tells a story if we quiet ourselves,.pay attention, and listen. The beauty and depth to poetry often astounds me.

I am so blessed and encouraged by the beautiful truths and goodness in countless books, essays, and in this modern day, some blogs, social media. I can’t imagine the days when many couldn’t even learn to read, much less touch a real book.

We’ve been busy here with the beginning of our big extended family holiday celebrations. My mind is overrun with ideas, thoughts, themes, and yes, stories. I yearn to put them down in my journal, or here, or anywhere, but alas sometimes we must set aside what we want to do for the urgency of the immediate. Seasons.

The truth is that relationships are what truly matter this side of heaven. I must continually remind myself of this…it is a weary, thankless job at times.  All the investing, patience, selflessness, and giving that relationships demand. Our relationship with God needs our purposeful attention, space to listen, learn, and converse. It is truly the most important thing we can do with our time. Next comes the people in our life. These relationships are so beautiful and so draining, but every hug, every meal, every listening ear, matters. It does. Don’t let culture or lies tell you it doesn’t. You are part of God’s amazing story and you are writing a beautiful line of it with your life.

Just think of it. Your life is a story. How will that story turn out, what will the next page contain? You hold the ink and quill in your hand. Choose wisely. May I choose wisely.

~

Fun way to make Story apart of everyday life:

We enjoy what I like to call “literary feasting”. One of our most favorite book series is The Chronicles of Narnia. The cookbook is so fun and after we checked it out from the local library, we started making a Narnia Meal.

Narnia Meal

425 degrees

Chopped veggies you have on hand. This is wonderful for using up bits & pieces you have in frig. Chop up summer sausage or kielbasa. Toss it all in your favorite oil, salt & pepper, and spices of your choice (I usually just use garlic salt). Place on large baking sheet and cover lightly with foil. Roast for 1 hour. Serve with fresh bread, rolls, or whatever side you wish! Sometimes we get cider to go with!  Light some candles and imagine yourself in Narnia with Aslan…

 

 

The Awakening of Miss Prim by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera

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What a weird book! That’s possibly why I enjoyed it?!  The Awakening of Miss Prim follows an independent and well-educated woman accepting a librarian position in a rural corner of France. Little does Miss Prim know what a strange place she is making her home. The strangeness began with her employer, The Man in the Armchair. She can’t understand his strange ways, study of dead languages, and how he teaches all the village children from ancient texts and dusty classics. She identifies with him, yet rejects his beliefs and outlook on life. She thinks she may love him, but can’t risk anything. She doesn’t understand the women of the village who enjoy their businesses AND keeping their homes. She doesn’t understand the shutting out of outside society and that it’s ok to live and just be close to home. She doesn’t understand the importance placed on enjoying the mundane in life. A good meal, tea by the fireside, hospitality, and reading quietly.  She lacks understanding because she is so perfectly educated. You might say the life has been educated out of her…faith…goodness…beauty…everything has sort of drowned in all the accomplishments of her life. I had this vague irritation throughout and it came to me that Miss Prim was so self-focused and always frustrated that real life didn’t line up with what she believed was truth. I could empathise with her struggles, and yet my faith also compels a constant turning of my thoughts to my Lord and others. Miss Prim was too smart for religion or faith, and in fact, she is proud and disgusted by any semblance of faith. She sees it as a weakness. And yet…she is empty, searching, and lonely. I did feel for her in many ways and know I’ve battled her thoughts, questions. Even though her new little village is portrayed as some sort of utopia, she always is grasping at happiness.  Lulu Thiberville, an older woman of the village, isn’t well received by Miss Prim, with her opinion of young women striving instead of living, wearing them down and destroying them…

“The yearning you all display to prove your worth, to show that you know this and that, to ensure that you can have it all. The yearning to succeed and, even more, the yearning not to fail; the yearning not to be seen as inferior, but instead even as superior, simply for being exactly what you believe you are or rather what you’ve been made to believe you are. The inexplicable yearning for the world to give you credit simply for being woman.”

page 230

As the story draws to a close, we see Miss Prim starting thaw just a bit. Looking at this book through the lens of my faith, I feel that Miss Prim is missing so much by rejecting faith and really, love. As she leaves this village for a trip to Italy (which I see as another way of just searching for something to fill her void), she does the thing she resisted doing the whole time of her stay in the village. She visits the local monastery and speaks with the old monk…he wishes her a good trip and says,

“So seek beauty, Miss Prim. Seek it in the silence, in tranquility; seek it in the middle of the night and at dawn. Pause to close doors while you seek it, and don’t be surprised if it doesn’t reside in museums or palaces. Don’t be surprised if, in the end, you find beauty to be not Something, but Someone.”

pg 244

What is the picture the author was trying to paint here? I don’t know. A feminist, utopian, atheistic society is best? Or that faith is a weakness? Or that we can never be happy until we find ourselves, whatever that means?! Again, I’m not sure…remember this was a weird book. However, I walked away with a lot to chew on and different perspectives to consider. It made me care in a small way about Miss Prim and all the Miss Prim’s out there and even consider if I’ve been this way or am this way. Just flinging around, grasping, and floundering, instead of resting in my faith in the Lord Jesus. Life is a GIFT to be shared, given and savored, and I hope I never forget that truth.

~

 

 

 

Monday Ponderings…{November 21st}

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It’s strange how that is: everybody wants to change the world, but nobody wants to do the small thing that makes just one person feel loved.

 

The Broken Way: A Daring Path into the Abundant Life

Ann Voskamp

page 74

(Thinking on this quote today, the ouch factor and the thanksgiving of living a life ripe with opportunities to do just this very thing. May I not miss those opportunities!)

Nightmare

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I just awoke from a nightmare. I’m running through an airport, frantically looking at signs, and glancing at the sweaty boarding pass in my hand. “It says 3309, Mom.” Yes, my mother is with me, faithfully following my lead. My sister is ahead, checking us in at the gate. We blindly forge ahead, dragging our carry-on luggage. I run through one door and another, heart-pounding, blood pressure rising, confused  and finding myself at a security gate. What? Didn’t we just go through security? My heads in whirl, I run up to a Dublin airport guard, telling him that we have to go through and we just went through a long line at Passport Control and that I was just trying to find my connecting flight. A torrent of words pouring out at him, poor guy. He is firm and tries calming down this out of control American woman. He says, “Sorry, but you still need to put all of your belongs on the belt and go through this security check point.” I argue my point a bit and then shakily start dumping my stuff into a bin, shoes in, belt off, sweat pouring down my face, my mom doing the same nervously behind me. We get through the check point and I ask another airport employee for help. He takes my boarding pass, calmly and nicely leads me to the screen, checks my flight number, and finds the gate for me. “I’m sorry but this is a ways down. This flight has now departed.” Despite the lovely Irish brogue, I’m staring with frustration, anger, and fear at him. He kindly hands me back my boarding pass. “I’m really sorry.” I glance at my long-suffering mother and bite back tears. We find my sister, who of course did not leave without us, and hash out how it happened. We calm down, settle into the Dublin Airport, waiting for our next flight.

I pull the blanket off my head and gulp. Yes, this is a nightmare, but it’s also true. I traveled this past summer to England and Paris with my sister and mother.  A dream trip that I am in awe of still and…yet this above incident still haunts me a bit as evidenced by my dream. I wonder how often in my inexperience I rush around in a panic. As a novice traveler, I read my ticket wrong, I trusted feelings over facts, and I allowed panic to make my decisions. I led my poor mom on a wild goose-chase.  Go ahead and laugh at my crazy antics. I know I do. Sorta. Life is a bit like this, you know. A tough circumstance presents itself, money might be tight, a relationship is hard, and I find myself wildly thrashing about, shooting off my mouth, digging a hole bigger than the original one. Sigh. Why? As a follower of Jesus  Christ, I know that He didn’t promise me an easy life. He gives His peace and love in the midst of all of this earthiness this side Heaven. I have a daily choice to make. Do I blindly run through the halls of life, dragging my baggage or do I pour all of my doubt, frustration, and despair into the arms of my faithful, loving Shepherd? It is not a magic potion. I do not automatically find my gate. It is an act of faith and trust. Can I stop for one second trying to control and figure out my life? Life is a nightmare when I trust in myself more than my Savior. Thoughts to ponder on…

~

 

Soup

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(Chicken & Veggie Soup)

I am always so happy when autumn rolls around. Simply because it is the beginning of three delicious seasons of soup. Here in the Northern Midwest, autumn, winter, and spring are all soup weather. I have such a hard time knowing what to feed my hungry crowd during the summer. My life becomes easier by this humble dish and it is a lovely way to use up what is sitting around my kitchen and stretch what we have on hand. As I’ve been chopping, stirring, and watching this autumn’s batch of soup simmering, something has come to mind over and over again. Of course, the feelings of warmth, home, and family meals, but something deeper even. Our lives are made up of many bits and pieces, simmering and very often tried over fire. My faith challenges me to believe that all of these parts make up a complete whole. Each part of soup and life is important to the finished product. If I just threw one onion into a pot, it would not come out well, if I do not wait patiently for all the ingredients to be added, slowly, and patiently cooked, I would not have a glorious meal worth sharing at the end.  The wafting scent lingering in the house and the savoring of soup, crackers or bread in hand, bring to mind all that the Lord desires for our lives to be. One of wholeness in Him.  I want to stew 🙂 on this more, but it is an important lesson for me.

Our current favorite soup:

(I adapted this from an online recipe YEARS ago, forgive me for not knowing the original source.)

Rosemary Potato & Ham Soup

(I often make this in a 7 quart crock pot, but it can be done quickly on the stove also)

Favorite potatoes, chopped. I don’t peel the potatoes, but you can if so desired.

Small ham piece, chopped.

Chicken broth to cover, about 6 cups.

A Bay Leaf, or two.

Rosemary.

Salt & pepper to taste.

1/2 stick of butter

Crock pot: Layer alternating chopped potatoes & ham. Sprinkle a little bit of dried rosemary every other layer. Throw in bay leaf. Dot top with butter. Add s & p. Cook on high for 5 hours or till tender.

Stove top: Throw everything together in a pot, simmer.

Serve with crackers or fresh bread.

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