Cake With Frosting

Creamy, sweet batter dripped from the beaters as my mother turned off the mixer and pushed the button to release them. Laying them aside on the counter, she poured the rich batter into the baking pan, then returned the beaters to the empty bowl. 

"Can I lick the bowl?" I asked my mother as she slid the cake into the oven.

I doubt that in all my childhood there was ever a cake made when some child didn't lick the bowl. Swirling the last sweet bites onto a finger and sliding it across your tongue is a treasured childhood memory for many of us.

"Can I have the biggest piece?" is often the request when a child looks wide-eyed at the freshly frosted cake waiting to be served.

The mother of James and John requested of Jesus special preference to be given to her sons in Heaven. Can one son sit on Your right and one sit on Your left? The other disciples murmured, appalled at such boldness. We all want to be "the disciple whom Jesus loved."

Like that wonderful frosted cake, there's enough grace and love for everyone. God passes out grace upon grace, and there is enough for everyone to be completely satisfied. One person may get more grace and love because he deserves more or needs more, but we all are satisfied.

Enough joy. Enough love. Enough grace. Enough.

As Mary Poppins says, "Enough is as good as a feast."

Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to render to every man according to what he has done. I am the  Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter by the gates into the city.
- Revelation 22:12-14

You may also want to read:  A Pie for Lynette, The Making of a Woman and The Happy Kitchen

Sunlight on a Cloudy Day

As I was leaving the store one December, I paused to encourage an elderly gentleman who was ringing a bell for the Salvation Army donation bucket. >

A small boy dropped some pennies into the bucket, then handed me a paper snowflake he had made.

"Thank you so much," I told the boy. "What a kind thing you are doing to give both your money and a snowflake to help other children."

"My mom gave me the money, but I made the snowflake," he said softly. "Do you think some kid would like to have it?"

I smiled at his "widow's mite" and nodded. "Very much. Snowflakes make everything better, don't you think?"

He agreed and reached into his pocket. Sprinkles of glitter fluttered around us, a snow fall in a rainbow of colors as he pulled out a stack of paper snowflakes. "Would these help, too?"

I glanced up and noticed tears in the eyes of the old gentleman still faithfully ringing the bell. I looked back into the bright, hopeful eyes of the young boy. With my hands full of paper snowflakes I began to sing, "Away in a Manger."

The little boy grinned and began to sing along. The older gentleman joined in with a strong, cheerful bass voice. Then an elderly woman, waiting beside her cart for a ride, began to sing along. In moments, a crowd of strangers was smiling and singing Christmas carols one after another.

The Christmas season has been left behind.  February winds have blown in swirling, sparkling snow. Focus on giving has turned to complaints about the weather, a longing for spring as beautiful snow becomes dirty and tiresome.

Sabbath heart, a heart set on things above, not on earthly things, is a heart with steadfast peace.  Goodness and faithfulness are my focus. A Sabbath heart does not brood over circumstances, does not spread negativity. We are the sunlight on a gray, dreary day. We share the God-colors and God-light in a dark weary world.

Let your light shine in such a way that others will see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. 

One small boy believed a paper snowflake could change his world...and it did.

Magenta Words

My mother taught me to write words before I was old enough for school. With a treasured box of Crayola Crayons beside me, I grasped my favorite magenta crayon in awkward, eager fingers. I drew each letter carefully, writing "I love you", my first sentence, on a paper heart.

My mother encouraged me as I created one valentine after another. A plain white heart covered with magenta words became a thing of beauty to treasure, something precious to share.

I remember running up the steps and flinging wide the back door of my grandmother's house. Grandma knelt to hold me close as I showed off my words.

"She wrote this?" Grandma asked my mother, obviously pleased with my treasure.

My mother nodded. "She made it for you."

I smiled. My words had the power to change my world and bring happiness. Heady stuff for a preschooler.

God wrote "I love you" with His own blood on my ordinary heart. I am beautiful because I am His treasure. I am His special something to share. So are you.

On the front of my Bible is stamped in gold, "The Word of God". God's Words have the power to change my world and bring happiness. Heady stuff for an ordinary heart.

He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all His creatures. And I will treasure His words in my heart so that I will not sin against Him.

Soldier-Princess: Thanks Giving

Burrowing into my soft robe, I snuggled under a quilt before the fire, a steaming cup of tea warming my hands. Soft jazz soothed my weary spirit. As I breathed in the lingering sweetness of gingerbread and glanced around at the photos of my healthy loved ones, I smiled. 

The cheerful surroundings called me to a thankful heart with relaxed ease. My heart, fueled by thanks giving, frequently bursts forth into song.

But am I truly thankful or am I reacting to creature comforts and happy thoughts? Am I thankful only when life is going my way?

An avalanche of misery and suffering in the world can so quickly overwhelm us. Burrowing into a robe of complacency and snuggling under a quilt of happiness is a mistake, however cozy we can make ourselves feel. That sort of thanks giving is temporary and accomplishes little. We cannot sustain happy feelings in a world where life is hard.

There is a giving of thanks that is more powerful and steadfast available to us. It goes deeper than transient feelings because it comes from praising God's gifts rather than our own perception of circumstances.

Faith that moves mountains starts with being truly thankful in all seasons of life. The me I want to be is beckoning me toward a life of deeper faith, a faith fueled by thanks giving no matter what my circumstances. 

Am I thankful when disease exhausts and disappoints?  Am I thankful when my heart is broken? Does my thanks giving fade away when my hardship surpasses my strength? In my weakness, am I thankful for the opportunity to prove God's strength? 

A soldier-princess is not surprised to find herself called into battle. She serves at the pleasure of The King and considers it an honor. She doesn't quit and she doesn't fall back until circumstances are easier. 

When life gets tough, the soldier-princess turns into a warrior of thanks giving. She sees with The King's eyes and loves with The King's heart. Confident that joy will come through thanks giving, she picks up her sword, the Word of God, lifts her shield of faith, and follows The King into battle. 

Oatmeal Moments

Kate Ware, Flickr

Who taught you how to make oatmeal?" Katherynn asks. "Are we going to have walnuts and raisins in it? I like brown sugar in mine. I don't think I want apples in it today. Is that cinnamon? Because I like cinnamon. Do you like stirring oatmeal? It looks fun."

She watches as I stir oatmeal, memorizing my motions as if I were creating a gourmet meal rather than a simple breakfast.

 A child is a sponge, soaking in love and savoring life, one moment at a time.

I smile and hug Katherynn close. "I do like stirring oatmeal. Making breakfast for a little girl is one of the most fun things I get to do."

She grins as she spoons hot oatmeal into green bowls. "It's pretty, isn't it? And we can decorate it now!"

Decorating oatmeal? Yes. I want to be a person who decorates oatmeal.

Seeing the beautiful in the simple, the extraordinary in the ordinary, turns my heart toward the God whose strength sustains me with joy when my own strength is spent.  A heart trained to ponder what is good, what is worthy of praise, especially in the ordinary, is a heart that will more easily endure pain and suffering.

I don't know if Jesus decorated his oatmeal with honey and figs, but I know he was a little boy sharing life with a mother who treasured little moments with him. She surely trained him to be thankful for simple, ordinary blessings.

And, because she did, He had much to ponder that was good and worthy of praise when He had to endure pain and suffering, when he was exhausted by the noise and fray around him.

"Let the little children come unto Me," Jesus said.  "For of such is the kingdom of heaven."

Cardboard Boxes

Johnathan battled with the empty cardboard boxes in the garage, laboriously moving them into the kitchen.

Grasp. Lift. Carry. Drop. Groan. Repeat.

More than I wanted to move the boxes for him, I wanted the toddler to complete the process from start to finish, to follow through his goal to create. Through the frustrations. Through the disappointments.

Forming the boxes in a line, he created a train. He lifted his pumpkin into one train car, his puzzle into another box car, then climbed into the front box. He cheered, raising little arms in victory, "Come see, Nana! Made it.Train!"

While Johnathan played with the boxes, I returned to composing at my piano where I had been struggling to arrange a medley of old hymns. Slowly, battling the frustrations and disappointments of creating, the music began to fall into place. I was delighted, energized by my success, spurred on to finish my work. Creating the music became a complete joy and I loved refining it until it was finished. I wanted to lift my arms in victory, too!

I am loved by the Author of my faith.  He pushes my frustrations and disappointments aside as he continues to work diligently in my life. He doesn't give up on me because He expects there to be more work to do in my life every day. He is drawn to my flaws and weaknesses, a Potter molding clay with complete joy and everlasting love.

One day Jesus will call my name.  The Author and Finisher of my faith will grasp me safely in His hands, lift the death veil, and carry me the last steps home. His creating process will be done and, maybe, just maybe, angels will cheer in victory and He will say, "Come see. Look what I've made. Well done."

Create in me a clean heart, oh, God, and renew a right spirit within me.

The Kitchen Refrigerator

 

Karen Ware, Flicker

When my husband's mother moved to heaven, we moved her large refrigerator into our kitchen. One door opens to a freezer section and ice water dispenser. The other side is full of roomy shelves and drawers for food storage.

To the delight of the children, cold refreshing water is a button away and there's always room for artwork and photos. I frequently discover handmade gifts, hung by smudgy little fingers, on my fridge.

God must have a refrigerator. Wouldn't a wedding feast require a kitchen? Surely there is room for His children to have their creations and special moments displayed. What have I done this week that merited His pleased smile? Does He say with love and pride, "Look at this. Look what she did!"

Johnathan runs into my kitchen, opens wide the refrigerator and announces his need with complete confidence that it will be met.

I need water. I need milk. I need food. I need...something.

He reaches for his sippy cup of milk and whatever fruit is in his reach.

When I am hungry, I can go to God's refrigerator with that same confidence. He has cold living water to refresh me, pure spiritual milk to nourish me and an endless supply of Spirit fruit.

A jar of joy, a platter of peace, with a layer of love. Maybe a kettle of kindness when my heart is running on empty. He's always thinking ahead of me, always ready to meet my needs.  I just have to open the door.

"I have loved you with an everlasting love", the Lord said to me.  "For I satisfy the weary ones and refresh everyone who languishes.  Hearing this, I began to awaken, and I looked, and my life was pleasant to me."  Jeremiah 31:25

Mushrooms, Onions and Peppers

I would love to be a great cook, but I'm not yet. I've been an excellent country cook, but now I'm learning to cook with healthier, better choices. It takes quite a bit of time experimenting in my kitchen.

I choose onions from the basket and grab a few cloves of garlic off the counter. Beside my wooden cutting board I line up colorful sweet peppers, red, yellow, orange and green. Lastly I wipe clean a pile of mushrooms then begin to chop.

I fill my old iron skillet with the colorful, healthy jumble of vegetables and it's ready to cook in a splash of olive oil. This mixture will be ready to add to breakfast eggs, meatloaf, soups, fish and chicken through the week.

Beautiful old hymns fill my kitchen with music and my heart fills with joy.  I love my kitchen and I'm thankful that this now familiar habit has become easy. I love experimenting, but this task is a reward, not experimentation. It is a habit, welcome and established.

I would love to be a great Christian, but I'm not yet. I'm learning to be more faithful, to make healthier, better choices. It takes quite a lot of time in my life experimenting. Every year I choose a new habit to experiment with in my life, one thing to focus on while God is daily refining me from the inside out. Gradually, habits are being welcomed and established, rewards for experimentation.

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful.  Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."  Hebrews 12:10b-11

Coffee With Cream

The sun is rising, a new day breaking through the darkness. While the kitchen fills with the warm, familiar aroma of my coffee, I read a Message from my Father on the window sill:

If your heart is broken, you'll find Me right there;  if you're kicked in the gut, I'll help you catch your breath. A soldier-princess so often gets into trouble; still, I'm there every time. See you at 7, Father

Today will bring concerns. Trouble is never far away. Holding on to joy can be a challenge. A friend's cancer, depression, a painful divorce, mental illness, abused children...on and on it goes.

But for now, I set aside the challenges and disappointments, taking every thought captive to celebrate this moment, this opportunity to be fully awake and in God's presence.

Rich dark coffee, drip by drip, little bit by little bit, fills my coffee mug, but I always leave enough room for cream.  As the cream stirs in, streaking the dark, gradually my coffee lightens, becomes richer, sweeter, more flavorful.

In the same way, moments of thanks giving, little bit by little bit, fill my cup of joy. The warm, familiar aroma of my prayers lifts me into the throne room of the King, where God, my Father, will be waiting for me.

Like coffee with cream, my burdens become lighter and my cup of joy becomes richer, fuller, more flavorful. I am my His and He is mine. In His presence is the fullness of joy.