Beautiful hope is found in the weeds

“You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside,
but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel,
if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart some day,
and then the rough burr will fall off.”
Louisa May Alcott

(a thistle prepares to bloom / Julie Cook / 2020)

Thistles, to me, are most alluring.

To Eeyore, they are a tasty ‘smakeral’ or so Pooh would observe.

They begin, in the early spring, as a spikey mass or clump, of uninviting serrated leaves
emerging oddly from the ground.

Trust me, don’t use bare hands in an attempt to pull them up in order to rid your space
of this most unwanted visitor.

They will eventually send forth one, or even several, shoots sporting a purplish fringed bulb.
As this odd bulb unfurls its full glory, the bloom is almost regal in a crown-like
explosion of texture.

(a thistle crown / Julie Cook / 2020)

And like all earthly glories, these odd blooming weeds eventually fade, turning themselves
back to seed.

(a field of thistles gone to seed /Julie Cook / 2020)

And yet the fact that these plants are considered useless and invasive and even noxious
weeds, there is a beauty found in their blooming and a bit of
respect found in their tenacity.

Saturday I was reading Kathy’s post over on atimetoshare.me —
Kathy was offering some waxing thoughts regarding our world’s current pandemic situation.

I found one passage most enlightening…

Our current younger generation are those who will not experience the pageantry of
a real graduation – those who will not go to their Senior prom –
those who have been through the good, the bad and now the ugly –
those who will be running our country in the next few years.

These unique young people will become a generation of problem solvers,
creative thinkers, money managers, inventive and innovative thinkers all because
their world was turned upside down by a little germ.
They will be the second greatest generation, because they have experienced plenty or at least enough.
They have been on the cutting edge of technology.
They have seen their nation at its worst and at its best.

SATURDAY SOUND OFF

Kathy noted that this current class of seniors, be it high school or college, are presently
experiencing a great many firsts in the way of loss.

Losses of certain rights of passage.

No Spring sports.
No state championships.
No Spring breaks.
No year-end award ceremonies.
No trophies.
No classes
No proms.
No senior days.
No graduations.
No graduation trips.

Only a seemingly unending sense of loss, isolation with more questions than answers.

And yet Kathy notes that this will be the group to become our next class of problem solvers.
They will be our newest innovators and creative thinkers…in part because
such a role and responsibility has been thrust upon them.

They have been handed a mantle of burden and responsibility despite not necessarily seeing
such coming their way.
And it is perhaps not truly a burden they have wanted…but they have been handed such nonetheless.

And so in this time of surreal losses and misses, there is a generation
that will have to rise to the occasion of problem-solving.

They have the tools at their fingertips as a pandemic has now spurred them on–
be it out of frustration, resentment, or simple curiosity…
hope now rests in the beauty of a blooming generation…

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.
Jeremiah 29:11

tik tok…time is ticking

“Cruelty and wrong are not the greatest forces in the world.
There is nothing eternal in them. Only love is eternal.”
Elisabeth Elliot

(shutterstock)

First, let me start out by saying thank goodness for Elisabeth Elliot’s quote.
The following post was a difficult one to write.

It is based on an even harder article; one that I read before being ‘inspired’
to write the post.

So yes, it was good to be reminded that cruelty, and that which is truly wrong,
are not the greatest forces in the world…despite often feeling overwhelmed
by their darkness.

I need to remember that love and love alone is the one eternal constant.

And so if you’ve ever read many of my posts, you already know that I don’t take
the matter of abortion lightly.
I find it to be a painful and ugly reality of human beings being human.

Let me be the first to say that I am really really happy not to be caught up in the constant
shape-shifting and undulating communication formats that just keep morphing and multiplying
in this post-Christian, uber cutting edge, 21st century of ours.
It’s really too much to try and keep up with, as well as maintain if one wants
to be current and trendy.

Formats like youtube and even Instagram are so yesterday when you can
use a platform like TikTok

According to TikToc’s site, they explain that TikTok is the leading destination for short-form
mobile video. Our mission is to inspire creativity and bring joy.

Creativity and joy.
I’m all for it.

As a former art teacher, I love hearing about a cyber place that affords the opportunity for creativity!
And as a human being, I know that I can sure use some more joy in this world of mine!

It sounds like a nice place.
A nice site for folks to get creative and happy while sharing that creativity and happiness
with others.
A kumbaya cyber gathering spot for sharing warmth and laughter…albeit a place for
some random silliness as people seem to have way too much time on their hands
if posting videos of both animals and people doing dumb things is the latest greatest craze…

However, it appears that TikTok seems to be shifting away from its original mission of
spreading happiness and joy as it is now becoming a site for both darkness and death.

Huh?

Is not darkness and death the antithesis for creativity and joy?

It seems that TikTok is now the hot new place where young gals are posting videos of
their abortion procedures.

Graphic and even disturbing videos.

And yes you have read correctly–there are gals out there, young gals,
who are giggling and being silly while uploading videos of their own abortion procedures.
As in a sick twisted, yet not without the moments of youthful silliness, step by step documentary.

Where, praytell, is the creativity and joy in that?

And so now that you are somewhat befuddled and confused over a story that started out about
spreading creativity and joy and yet has now spiraled into something rather insidious and sinister,
you must be wondering where on earth did I ever hear of such!?

Well, I was reading over yesterday’s offering from The Federalist when one of the featured
stories caught my eye.

If Girls Want To Be ‘Candid’ About Abortion On TikTok,
They Should Livestream It All
MARCH 4, 2020
By Joy Pullmann

This article deals with sensitive information that may be traumatizing especially
for post-abortive men and women and those who have experienced miscarriage.
My heart goes out to you. You can heal.

Pro-life activist Lila Rose says Twitter forced her to remove a viral video she
reposted of a young woman celebrating her Planned Parenthood abortion on the social media
platform TikTok.

According to a twitter post that Twitter removed, pro-life activist Lila Rose wrote:
Our ability to be cruel is endless.
When society celebrates abortion, should we be surprised to see this kind of cruelty?
My heart breaks for this little helpless baby,
killed on camera, his young mother joking about it.
And it breaks for her, who will live with this all her life
twitter.com/lilagracerose/

The article continues with a twitter tit for tat…

Insider summarized the TikTok video this way:

The user @cpcake21 posted a 20-second clip, which began with an apparently positive
pregnancy test belonging to her friend Ashley. The girl shows off her stomach before
the video follows them to a Planned Parenthood clinic,
where they point out a solemn couple in the waiting room before cutting to Ashley
on the table in a medical gown.
The video, which was posted from a now-private profile but posted in some tweets,
is overall lighthearted.
Set to a remix of Bruno Mars’ ‘It Will Rain,’
Ashley nervously laughs and fist pumps before she’s in the exam room.

Twitter removed the tweets it didn’t like, TikTok removed the videos that spun out of control
but not before the damage, sharing, shock, and disbelief were spread far and wide…kind of
like that desire for creativity and joy….spread it far and wide.

A small war ensued between the pros and cons with Twitter and TikToc siding with the pros and
attempting to silence the cons…but isn’t that how things now work?

The author of the article continues…

It’s hard to know where to begin.
With what looks like teenagers joyfully making the choice to have their wombs suctioned out
or induced with a miscarriage?
With the weird and sick trend of abortion-happy posts on the social media platform
saturated with young Gen Zers?
With a “reporter” who has a huge platform encouraging murderous
and self-damaging behavior among teen girls?

Let’s just go with the transparency angle.
You want “open and candid” information about a major medical decision that ends a life you created?
Great.
Let’s livestream it.
The whole thing.
Not just the fist-pump, but also the entire ultrasound the abortionist is watching while
he suctions out the baby, or the blood and tiny body pouring into the toilet
after an abortion pill while the young mother vomits and sobs.
Go ahead.
Be “transparent.”

I dare any mainstream media outlet or abortion organization to go full transparent.
To preserve the mom’s privacy, you don’t have to show her face.
Just show the procedure.
Nothing to hide, right?
Everything to celebrate, right?
Own that rhetoric.
Prove it’s true.

Of course, they won’t.
Because all the “shout your abortion” and “abortion parties” nonsense is a web of lies
attempting to conceal one of the most grotesque national sins Americans have ever allowed
our government to sanction.

The article is extensive as well as graphic.
But isn’t that what abortions are?

They are graphic moments of both life and death.
They are not neat nor are they pretty.

Maybe folks make light of such acts because how else can they cope with something so tragic?
Despite clamoring for legalization, proponents for abortions still wish to keep the details
and graphic nature hidden from plain sight…
that is except for when some young girls, who don’t seem to
grasp the severity of their actions, decide to post an “adventure” and then a few rabid activists
encourage said behavior as “brave.”

When did the taking of a helpless life become brave?

Abortion advocates don’t like for the opposition to lay all the cards plainly on the table for all the
world to see….it’s a messy business.
Ugly, messy and deadly.

They want to be able to perform such acts while preferring that no one really acknowledges
the ugliness of it all.
Keep it light and easy…creative and joy-filled.

The clock is ticking…

Here is the link to the full story.

https://thefederalist.com/2020/03/04/if-girls-want-to-be-candid-about-abortion-on-tiktok-they-should-livestream-it-all/?utm_source=The+Federalist+List&utm_campaign=3f4087fbae-RSS_The_Federalist_Daily_Updates_w_Transom&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_cfcb868ceb-3f4087fbae-84149832

Show us the way oh Lord. . .

“Others have seen what is and asked why.
I have seen what could be and asked why not. ”
― Pablo Picasso

(a statue of Christ on the Charles Bridge , Prague, The Czech Republic / Julie Cook / 2012)

What is it that sets us apart form the other creatures on this planet our ours?
Other than that opposable thumb business?

What is it that makes us greater, wiser, better. . .?

Is it perhaps our ability to be compassionate and kind?
Perhaps to reason and analyze?
Or is it is our capacity to be creative. . .that ability to dream, to imagine, to think and therefore to compose, to construct, to paint, to sing, to sculpt, to dance and to build. . .

The ability to even take that which has been ruined and destroyed, even by our own hands, and to remake, rekindle and renew. . .?

I had not intended to have such a serious minded post again this week but it appears that forces beyond my control thought better of my initial decision. . .

Today’s news is laced, once again with the heinous beheading by ISIS of another innocent bystander–another victim to their ravenous thirst for innocent blood. This time it was an 82 year old Archeologist taxed with preserving and saving the ruins of Palmyra.
It seems they held this gentleman for the past month, torturing him in an attempt to discover where the vast treasures of this ancient, and to some holy, site were hidden. He never shared that information with his captors, who knows if he even was aware of hidden treasure, so it was another case of “off with their heads”. . .

Here you may find a link to the full story as found on the BBC . . .
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-33984006

In Charles Kaiser’s book “The Cost of Courage” which I shared in yesterday’s post, Mr. Kaiser retells the story of the Vichy Parisian Mayor, Pierre-Charles Taittinger who, following the invasion of Normandy which was the telling realization for the Nazis that their time of Occupation in Paris, as well as all of France, was drawing dangerously to its finale, approached the Nazi’s high commander, General Choltitz, with his final plea for the Germans to spare the city.

It was well known and documented that if Hitler had to relinquish the City of Lights back into the hands of the Allies, then they would not receive a city at all but rather one that had been razed and burnt to the ground. Every bridge crossing the Seine, as well as every monument from the Eiffel Tower to Napoleon’s Tomb had been wired with explosives. The fleeing German troops were to detonate and burn everything in their wake as they left the city.

Monsieur Taittinger implored the General one last time:
“Often it is given to a general to destroy, rarely to preserve,” Taittinger begins.
“Imagine that one day it may be given to you to stand on this balcony as a tourist, to look once more on these monuments to our joys, our sufferings, and to be able to say, “One day I could have destroyed all this, and I preserved it as a gift for humanity.’ General, is not that worth all a conqueror’s glory?”
The General replied, “You are a good advocate for Pairs. You have done your duty well. And likewise I, as a German general, must do mine.”

History tells us that the General was wise enough to know that by now Hitler was indeed a madman and that the war, with the Soviets now advancing from the east, was all but over and that it would not serve the furture of Germany, whatever that further may now hold, to destroy what the French held so dear. There is more to the story, a series of interventions and seemingly miraculous moments which spurred the Allied forces to march upon the city in the nick of time, but I suggest that you read that story on your own as it makes for fascinating reading.

When the church bells rang out echoing across the city, with the deep baritone bells of Notre Dame leading the way, sounding the joyful news of the liberation of Paris, the General was heard to say, “that today I have heard the bells of the death knell of my own funeral. . .” He had sent the troops out from the city with having detonated only the bombs of one of the train stations.

What is it about our splendors and our glories, those monuments we construct, build, make and craft from generation to generation. . . those tombs and treasures we hold so dear and so ever important? So much so that we feel the urgency and need of being tasked with their care, their maintenance, their upkeep and their eventual preservation?
Is it because we see that these manmade wonders are some of the tangible evidence of the better part of our nature? That despite our ability to destroy, to kill and to promote war. . .deep down we know that we strive for the good, the beautiful and the enduring?

These wonders of ours link us to our past civilizations. These monuments of glory, grandeur and beauty of both joy and sorrow allow us to see from where we have come, and in turn we are afforded the opportunity to show future generations the part of us which is better, kinder, gentler, more humane —that side which chose to give rather than to take?

So on this day, when another has fallen victim to a dark and evil menace spreading outward from the Middle East, I am left with the simple prayer, “Oh Lord, show us the way. . .”

(Duomo di Milano / Milan, Italy / Julie Cook / 2007)

(The Bascillica di San Antonio / Padova, Italy / Julie Cook / 2007)

(Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore / Firenze, Italy / Julie Cook / 2007)

(Basilica Papale di San Francesco / Assisi, Italy / Julie Cook / 2007)

( Basilica Papale di San Pietro / The Vatican / Roma, Italy / Julie Cook / 2007)

(stain glass windows in The Basilica of the Holy Blood / Bruges, Belgium / Julie Cook / 2011)

(Notre Dame / Paris France / Julie Cook / 2011)

(détail, Notre Dame / Paris, France / Julie Cook / 2011)

(Eiffel Tower / Paris, France / Julie Cook / 2011)

(the cross that sits atop the Eagles Nest or the Berghof overlooking Berchtesgaden, Bavaria which was once Hitler’s private mountain retreat / Julie Cook / 2013)

(St Stephens Cathedral/ Vienna, Austria / Julie Cook / 2013)

St Vitus Cathedral / Prague, The Czech Republic / Julie Cook / 2013)

(Rose window, St Vitus Cathedral / Julie Cook / 2013)

(A section of the Berlin Wall / Berlin, Germany / Julie Cook / 2013)

(a section of the Berlin wall / Berlin, Germany / Julie Cook / 2013)

(The Brandenburg Gate / Berlin, Germany / Julie Cook / 2013)

(The interior of the new German Chancellory, the Bundestag / Berlin, Germany / Julie Cook / 2013)

Exterior of the Bundestag / Berlin, Germany / Julie Cook / 2013)

and the Angels rejoiced

“I would rather be what God chose to make me than the most glorious creature that I could think of; for to have been thought about, born in God’s thought, and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest and most precious thing in all thinking.”
― George MacDonald

(the closeup of a gorgeous heirloom pumpkin, pieces of God’s marvelous creative talents / Julie Cook / 2014)

And on the first day, when God went about the task of creating Creation,
The Angels rejoiced.
God waved His hand, suddenly appearing out of the nothingness, there shone a great Light.
The Angels rejoiced.
He raised His head both up and down establishing a vast sky above and an open landscape below.
The Angels rejoiced.
He shed a single tear and immediately vast oceans, seas and waterways filled the landscape.
The Angels rejoiced.
He blew the dust from His hand, which in turn set the stars and the planets in motion, sending them dancing across the heavens.
The Angels rejoiced.
He formed both sun for day and moon for night.
The Angels rejoiced.
He placed his hands on the landscape and pulled his fingers across the surface, all manner of plant and tree sprouted forth from His very touch.
The Angels rejoiced.
He opened up his hand and from his palm poured animals, reptiles, insects and birds of every size, shape and color.
The Angels rejoiced.
He took handfuls of the mud which covered the landscape. The mud was full of the water, bits of the land–it was full of the plants, leaves, pollen, seeds and straw, as well as the dung and droppings of all the animals, reptiles, birds and insects.
He began pushing and pulling the mud, mixed with all the bits and pieces of His new Creation, through His strong yet tender hands.
He smiled contently as He felt the warm, soft, wet mud move and squish through His fingers.
He worked steadily but thoughtfully.
He shaped the muddy mix and moulded it until it was just right.
And there in the palm of His massive hand rested אֲדָמָה, adamah, Adam.
and for now, the Angels Rejoiced.
But God was not finished.
There, in the center of the first Light, the true Light of Light, from the very God of the very God, lay a tiny piece of God’s heart. It beat in unison with God’s heartbeat yet is stayed perfectly suspended in the center of the true Light.
For God knew that Adam was a product of both light and dark.
There would be a time that Adam and his people would prefer life in the darkness.
God knew that in order to bring Adam and his people back to the true Light, He would have to provide Adam and his people with the small beating piece of God’s own heart.
And God proclaimed “I will be his father, and he will be my son (2 Samuel 7:14)
And the Angels Rejoiced.

(closeup images of gorgeous heirloom pumpkins, pieces of God’s marvelous creative talents / Julie Cook / 2014)

Twisted

And finally I twist my heart round again, so that the bad is on the outside and the good is on the inside, and keep on trying to find a way of becoming what I would so like to be, and could be, if there weren’t any other people living in the world.
Anne Frank

(one of cookie’s pumpkins / Julie Cook / 2013)

When I was still in the classroom and it was time for me to introduce our ceramic, better known as clay, unit, I’d first demonstrate how best to “wedge” the clay. Simply put, that’s the process of working out the tiny air pockets that get caught in a ball of clay. If the air bubbles are allowed to stay in the clay, as it’s being formed, there is a very good chance that the final piece being fired in the kiln would either severely crack, or worse, explode. When trapped air is heated it expands, and in the case of the clay, the expansion is obviously outward… causing catastrophic results for a pot being fired.

Wedging the clay is very similar to the kneading of bread. While I was in college, my ceramics instructor was a visiting professor from the University of Tennessee. This particular professor had been trained in the traditionally rich Asian ceramic school of study and he in turn taught us similar based techniques. One of those techniques was a particular way to wedge the clay— the Japanese Spiral Technique.

This particular technique allowed one to work the clay from the inside out… manipulating the clay and hands, twisting and rolling, working the clay into a spiraled ball. Pretty much guaranteeing that the air pockets were worked out of the clay. One piece of clay full of the air pockets, being fired in a loaded kiln, put everyone’s piece in jeopardy. If one piece “blew up” —it could possibly damage any piece sitting in close proximity—resulting in very unhappy students. Wedging was stressed to the utmost.

So when I read today’s quote by Anne Frank, about twisting her heart round, so that the bad is on the outside and the good on the inside, I couldn’t help but think of wedging and of the Japanese Spiral Technique. How nice it would be if it were so easy to twist our bad out from deep down, twisting it outward pulling the good inward toward our soul. Simply sloughing off the bad and being full of the good.

She speaks of trying to become the person who she would like to be, the person she could be–whether anyone else existed or not. Anne was between 13 to 15 years old when she wrote those words. She was suppose to have had a lifetime ahead of the her to work on becoming that very special person she sought to be.

I am almost 54 years old—I have been privileged to have that lifetime that was stolen from Anne. I am still not that person that I wish to be. There has always been a part of me that yearned to be like one of the Desert Fathers, or in my case, Mothers—being one who sought solitude away from society allowing myself to focus solely on my relationship to and with God. No worldly distraction.

How I so often push my time with God to the wayside as something else just seems so much more pressing….trivial things. I sadly allow the here and now to overshadow the Divine….
“I’ll get to it in a minute. I’ll read the day’s Divine Office in a minute, after I put the wash in the dryer, after I feed the cats, after I make the bed, after I take my shower, after I post the day’s blog, after I answer the phone, when I get back from the store, when I get back from Dad’s, after I start supper, after I do the dishes…once I put my head to my pillow…..tomorrow, I will do it tomorrow….”

Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous laws (Psalm 119:164 NIV) But I don’t do that. Why don’t I do that? We are told we should do that. Seven times a day…

To learn the perfection of prayer and worship. To go deep within to that inner sanctum where there is that piece of the Divine–so deep in my very core that I am not even aware that it is there. It is in this deep core sanctuary where the Holy Spirit resides waiting for me to go within to commune with the Divine.

And yet there is the desire to serve….service to others. To demonstrate the Divine by offering kindness, compassion, help, comfort, nourishment, shelter…a ministry of aid and compassion, of doing…

Have I done enough? No. I don’t think so. I know not. There is still so much to do. Just turn on the news—there is so much that needs to be done for this humanity of ours.

Prayers for the school’s this week who witnessed the senseless loss of life in the throws of, once again, needless violence.
Prayers for Sparks Middle School in Nevada and prayers for Danvers High School in Massachusetts.
Prayers for the teachers, the students and the families who now ask those painful questions of why.
Prayers for our Nation as our allies today now question our “friendship” and find that our trust has been broken.
Prayers for the skewed beliefs and of our extreme obsession with materialism, or our obsession over Hollywood and sensationalism media, for those who we look to as role models who cannot even lead themselves, for and what both Blessed Mother Teresa and John Paul II called our culture of Death……

No, I am not done—much twisting, wedging and woking remains of the moving out the bad to move in the good. Just like the potter, I need to work the clay of my heart. Wedging a little more until it is right.

What to do with all those acorns…

Many people are struggling because they have not used what God has given them. God gives you an acorn; you invest it and it will become a tree! Stop praying for trees while acorns are lying all over the ground. God answered your prayer for the tree when He sent you the acorn. Your creative ideas are acorns from which mighty trees emerge. Your talent is given to you to be multiplied.
TD Jakes

There are three oak trees in our yard–two of great prominence to our house–as we built the house so that the trees would be able to grow and thrive without being impeded by the building of and eventual existing of the house. They in turn showcase our home beautifully.

We almost lost one, a couple of years back, to a tornado. It now has a bit of a distinct lean—not a deadly lean nor a lean noticeable to the causal observer—just enough for us to know things are slightly skewed. The other one, we fear has a leaf blight that will eventually take the tree. Sadly it appears as if the one in the back of the house may also have the blight. I am so sad as I love these trees. I feel as if they are reflections of our home and our lives. I can’t imagine having them removed.

I continue hoping and praying that they, particularly the large one out front, will make it. We have a picture of our then 11 year old son by the tree when we had first bought the property. He’s standing out in what was a pasture spotted with a couple of young oak trees. He and the oak trees are but young saplings. Our son will turn 25 in December. The tree, I could’t say, I just hope that, as our son, who is soon to marry and will eventually start a family of his own, the tree will be here for future grandchildren to pose beneath….

We tend to mark the important events of our own lives by the trees privy enough to be around us. My husband and I visited Portsmouth, New Hampshire a few summers back. We went on a lovely walking tour of this quaint historic seaport colonial city. Upon stopping outside of the Moffat-Ladd home we noted a huge towering tree.

The story is that William Whipple, then resident of the home and New Hampshire’s signer of the Declaration of Independence, had brought back from his trip to Philadelphia a young Horse Chestnut sapling. He planted the young tree in the yard of the home as a reminder of his participation in such a historic event. He wanted Portsmouth to have a tangible link and a constant reminder of the role the city once played in the quest for freedom. The tree, which now towers over the house and is thriving to this day, is a long lasting snapshot of a once very young nation.

Yes trees are such important sentinels to our very lives. I think of the giant redwoods on the West coast of this country who were but young strong growing trees at the same time a young man, who on a different continent, walked the barren lands of Galilee calling out for followers.

I think of what these trees witness, what they protect, what they provide for us, what they mean to us—and yet, sadly, we have not always been kind to their existence or very good stewards to their survival. I’d like to think we live in a symbiotic relationship with trees–unfortunately however,I think it is only to our benefit that this relationship exists—the trees would do fine without us—perhaps that makes us a bit parasitic….

So on this beautiful Saturday morning of a beautiful Autumn weekend, I hope you will have an opportunity to wander outside under and beneath the trees of your life—be they in your yard, in you community or out in this great big country of ours—be thankful and grateful for their existence as they provide so much more for you than you can ever provide for them…..

Searching…..with a steady eye…

“No idea is so outlandish that it should not be considered with a searching but at the same time a steady eye.”
Winston Churchill

“Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven’s door”

“I can be jubilant one moment and pensive the next, and a cloud could go by and make that happen.”
Bob Dylan

Photograph mine, quote and lyrics Bob Dylan’s…..and that’s exactly how I feel when I fly through the clouds (in a plane mind you)—a magical situation to be on the upside of the clouds…I’ve never been one to wish I could fly but to be able to get up and walk on clouds—that would be a quiet yet wonderful adventure, don’t you think?

Grey dark clouds can pass overhead and yes, I too can become pensive, aggravated, depressed, or relieved..it all depends on whatever is going on in my life at the time down on the ground under the clouds…but being able to fly up through them, being perched on top of them, looking down, just imagining I could just stop the plane stepping out onto that pillowy top—now that is truly a magical thought.

I wonder if it is human nature to want to go upwards…a primal desire to seek our Creator upwards, heavenwards…? If I go far enough will I find Him waiting for me? Perhaps it is an innate longing and desire to be with God, by His side, in His presence. And I suppose it is my yearning and desire to indeed go seeking after Him. And it is through and on top of those very clouds where I feel I should start.

Oh I know that I can sit in the middle of a virgin wood forest, or on a rocky cliff over looking a churning sea and I know that He is there. I knew I saw Him when the baby fawn gingerly hopped through our yard. I saw Him the day our son was born. I saw Him as my mom died…..

….but the clouds— up in those giant white billowy puffs—-somewhere up there I know He is there—
I will always look upwards—what about you?

Cooking and Creativity vs Baking and Chemistry

Some of you reading my posts may have noticed that I have a category for “Cooking/Creativity”.   Whereas these two activities are indeed separate, in my world they are as intertwined as kudzu and the South.  Many folks most likely equate Creativity with the Arts—the Visual Arts in particular.  And yes, there is certainly truth to that.  An artist may take, for example, a canvas, tubes of paints and  a small army of brushes—mix in a little water and light as needed, along with a little of this and a little of that  for effect and…. voila, a beautiful image emerges for all to view and enjoy.

Cooking is very much along the same principle.  A cook/chef takes a few pots and pans, some fresh (or even frozen) ingredients—mix in varying portions of liquids, oils, heat , a little of this spice and a little of that herb and…. voila, a beautiful plate that pleases not only eye but palate as well.  And oh how I find so much pleasure in both pursuits but if the truth be known, it is the latter that truly quenches my soul.

After spending upwards of 10 or more hours a day at school, I found it almost necessary to come home and cook supper.  My kind husband would constantly tell me that I could/ should just keep things simple, maybe just a sandwich or we could even go out to grab a bite if I was too tired…. I wouldn’t hear of it!  Especially after the most stressful of days.  Being allowed to come home to my kitchen was a welcomed relief.  It was in my kitchen where I could simply immerse myself in the thoughts of the day, sorting out mistakes, miscues or relish in the small victories all the while as I would start whatever it was going to be for supper.

From cornish hens with a glistening, translucent amber orange marmalade glaze or to the magic wonder of fish or chicken en papillote accompanied by an orchestra of fresh vegetables and herbs  —it was here that I found my zeal for the “creative.”

Many years ago when my mom was in ICU battling cancer ,and I was a newly married young woman, I would go each day to the ICU Waiting Room carrying an arm load of cook books–upwards of 8 at a time.  As I would sit for hours waiting for the  three 15 minute times of visitation allowed in a 24 hour period, I would read page per page , cover to cover of every type of recipe and cookbook imaginable. It was my therapy and my catharsis.  Maybe I needed to know that in the dark shadows of death, where I had found myself in vigil for my mom, Creativity, which I equate with life and living, was still very much present and attainable.

But what about baking you ask.  I once read that if one fancies oneself as more of a cook then that just means that one tends to be more “creative”.  If one fancies oneself as more of a baker, one tends to be more “scientific”.  I find that a pretty good analogy–or actually description of the two.  The baker needs precision and must rely on the chemistry of ingredients to make the “magic”.  The perfect blend of baking powder and or soda, along with fats, sugars, yeast, water and heat–there is indeed true magic that takes place.  From the rising or proofing of bread to the final baking.  Heavenly aromas arise from one’s oven when making yeast breads from scratch.  It may sound simple and easy—trust me, it is anything but!!

It is in that baking process where I do struggle….as my personality is not patient enough for baking.  That whole mixing, kneading, waiting, punching, kneading a little more, waiting, rising, rolling, baking…..you get the point.  Part of my plan during this retirement has been to perfect ( I use that term oh so loosely) the making of various breads from scratch.  I will do a post on the cinnamon rolls at a later date…today, however, I need something that I can count on as a success and not as a wing and a prayer.

I will leave you today with a recipe for an oldie but goodie  simple desert.  Some may think this more of a fall or even winter desert.  I find it is perfect year round.  I was at the grocery store earlier where I found fresh Meyer Lemons.  Large and full of juice– they looked almost like  oranges–as their peel has a beautiful yellow/ orange warm yet bright hue.  And the fragrance is not to be denied let alone the flavor!!!!!!  If you have never tried a Meyer lemon—there will be no going back once you do….this particular desert is traditionally served with a lemon sauce, or glaze or even lemon curd.  It is taken from the Joy of Baking.  The Joy of Cooking was probably the very first cookbook I received, even while I was still in college.

I hope you will enjoy this simple yet flavor satisfying Ginger cake… as I certainly will later this evening.

Gingerbread Cake:  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (177 degrees C) and place rack in center of oven.  Butter and flour a 9 inch (23 cm) round or square cake pan with 2 inch (5 cm) sides.  In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, ground cinnamon, ginger and cloves. In bowl of your electric mixer (or with a hand mixer), beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy (about 3 minutes).  Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Add the lemon zest and molasses and beat to combine. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed. Add the dry ingredients and milk, alternately, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients.  Beat just until incorporated. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with an offset spatula.  Bake for 40 – 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.  Remove from oven and let cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes before removing cake from pan.  Let cool completely and then, if desired, frost with the Lemon Icing. Lemon Icing:  Mix together the sifted confectioners’ sugar and lemon juice until smooth.  (The icing should be thick but still spreadable.)  Pour the icing onto the center of the cake and spread with an offset spatula.  Some of the icing will drip down the sides of the cake.  This cake will keep for several days at room temperature.   Can serve with softly whipped cream, lemon curd, or slices of apples sauteed in a little butter and sugar. Makes one – 9 inch (23 cm) cake Gingerbread Cake: 2 cups (260 grams) all purpose flour 1 teaspoon (5 grams) baking soda 1/4 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves 1/2 cup 113 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature 1/2 cup (105 grams) light brown sugar 2 large eggs Zest of 1 lemon (outer yellow skin of lemon) 1/2 cup (120 ml) unsulphured molasses (To prevent the molasses from sticking to the measuring cup, first spray the cup with a non stick vegetable spray.) 1 cup (240 ml) milk Lemon Icing: (Optional) 1 1/2 cups (150 grams) sifted confectioners’ (powdered or icing) sugar 2 – 2 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice