Joy…and Burnt Toast While You Wait

The time on the spiky clock on the farmhouse wall said 10:30 p.m. A coveted time for me in my childhood.

It was “nightlunch” time (Russian tradition) at Grandma and Grandpa’s house on the farm. Grandpa found his usual spot at the end of the table within arm’s reach of a little side table where the green transistor radio lived, telling of the farm market news by day and “Classics Till Dawn” serenading the kitchen on CFAM by night. It was a portal to the outside world on their farm, located deep in the heart of the country.

The toaster was a best friend, perched beside the transistor for the night lunch where grandpa adjusted the toaster knob just right…burnt. The resulting blackened toast was then slathered with thick patches of real butter. It filled the kitchen with an aroma that seemed to say this coveted nightly ritual had begun.

It was my favourite time of the day or should I say night. Along with their night lunch, the local Carillon news paper visited the farmhouse table on a weekly basis, every Thursday, picked up by my grandpa at Guenthers store in the small town of Grunthal a few miles down the road from the farm.

As the paper opened wide with all its grandeur, my eyes chased past the sports, jobs, etc… eagerly trying to steady my heart as I searched for the weekly Carillon feature; inserts of three to four chapters of a children’s book.

This particular evening I was excited to practice my reading skills of the classic Where the Red Fern grows after my last bite of Grandpa’s perfected burnt toast. My grandma help me with the bigger words as she and Grandpa listened intently as we all got lost in the world of young Billy with his hounds, little Ann and old Dan.

It was magical.

Letting my eyes scan as I was reading, I felt a bit sad knowing a few paragraphs to go and I would need to wait another whole week to start the next couple of chapters to find what would happen next.

Sometimes in life the answers we are looking for and have prayed fervently for, take us on a journey; sometimes weekly, sometimes monthly, and sometimes yearly…too long for our hearts it may seem. We eagerly anticipate the next chapter and all that encompasses.

Life rarely lets us finish a book in one day.

Let each chapter give you courage as you anticipate the answers to your book in that season of life no matter what the final chapter may reveal.

Enjoy the chapters along the way as you may have to wait. Our God Love’s when we rest in Him as we wait for the answers for the next chapters. How we wait is important to our faith, our mind, our hearts.

Surround yourself with those that make the journey easier. Friends, family… Those that will share the good and the not so good chapters of your life. Those that will sincerely listen to your “readings” of the chapters of your life and encourage and rejoice and will help you with the “big words” when you just can’t.

The memories of those days of the night lunches and the weekly chapter readings of Where the Red Fern grows were highlights in my life and have a special place tucked deep in my heart.

I may have had to wait from week to week for the answers to the next chapter, but I still enjoyed the moments in my childhood, a few chapters at a time and everything that surrounded that time around the farmhouse table, especially the night lunch and the company of my grandma and grandpa.

Live.

Really live…

in the short or long moments in between the chapters of your book ( life’s series of events). Enjoy each day as you wait. Don’t hold your breath.

Breathe.

Enjoy the pieces of life that make the journey enjoyable.

Enjoy your “butter slathered coveted burnt toast”…

and have JOY while you wait.

Nothing Has Changed

My eyes fell longingly on the tiny house my six-year-old self had lived in as I passed by on the familiar sidewalk across the street, the towering trees of yesteryear draping over me as a canopy as if to protect what my memories were made of.

My little dog dancing happily at the end of her leash beside me had never walked this path before, totally oblivious to what this walk meant to me. But I had before… Many times… Years earlier and only periodically now.

My heart wanted to live down memory lane for a while again as my mom’s birthday approached. Her first birthday in Heaven.

Our ideas of life and how to live may have differed a whole lot most of the time but there were a few things that glued us together, and that warms my heart and hers I would imagine.

The tall row of mature evergreens that had been the home of me, my sister and brother s climbing adventures, were no more. The view to the small front porch was now panoramicly unobscured. It looked a lot smaller than I had remembered.

Old snapshots in my family album had me and my sister posing in homemade matching blue Spring jackets and warm toques for good measure (as Mom was always cold, and naturally we would be cold too) smiling nicely for the photographer which most likely was my dad.

My dad was the picture taker in the family. I still own boxes upon boxes of old slides as proof.. memories…treasures…the passion I believe that has passed down to me as I live behind every shot as memories are captured in time of my family and life.

The cracks in the cement driveway showed its age as it had lived through at least 50 birthdays.

I remember the evening my grandma and grandpa came with their big yellow loader and gravel truck with the family business name printed on the side door, to create the fun cement driveway I would play on for many years to come. It looked different then. Smooth, even, no cracks, uniform in colour.

Not so now 50 years later, yet it still frames the memories made on it as a little girl riding my second hand banana seat cherry red bike, back and forth. It was a magical time in my childhood.

I glanced at the living room window and my mind went back to the piano that had lived across the room against the back wall, Christmas gifts always stacked high on any surface but the keys, the vintage green sofas, and the record player with eight-track tapes held neatly and precisely in a holder on top. The 70s green curtains framed our view of the outside world in every season.

The small kitchen window was still as small as I had remembered, bringing back memories of a small 60s arbrite table with four matching chrome chairs where life was lived, morning, noon, and night. The small vintage fridge tucked into the corner held all our daily provisions, but my bigger memory brought a large bottle of brown looking cod liver oil liquid to the forefront. It was either that or liver once a month… I’m not sure that was a choice.

Many a homemade pot of soup was made at the small stove by my mom from her fresh produce in her yearly large garden. I can still smell the intoxicating aroma. A fresh green bean soup dotted with ham and of course my favorite, summer borscht which I make for my family now many years later.

As I rounded the corner into the street facing the backyard, the row of lilac bushes that seemed so enormous as a child didn’t seem quite so anymore to my eyes 50 years later. The backyard held many great memories of plays of imagination created for the neighborhood moms with all the kids of all ages. The moms came willingly from each of their homes throughout the neighborhood leaving perhaps some baking, canning, sewing or just maybe a much-needed cat nap, just to come support their kids and their excitement in sharing these plays they had created with each other.

It was a different time.

And then my eyes fell on the “big rock” now almost completely hidden by tall grass. It seemed so small now. 50 or so years earlier, I’d feel like I was living on the “edge”so far from my home as I would sit on it reading my book or just simply enjoying nature around me. It now seemed so insignificantly small, yet my memories of it were still big.

Continuing my walk with my Chyna, I came back to the present. Many memories had happened during the years we had lived here fifty years ago. Much was the same in my mind and heart but much was different in reality. Seasons change. Others now lived in the same walls I had made memories in, now making their own, completely oblivious to mine.

As much as we may want some things to stay the same, life doesn’t work that way on this planet. Seasons change, things change…people change.

But what I’ve come to know and have more understanding about it as I have more birthdays on this planet, in all my seasons of winters, springs, summers, and fall,

is the Love of my God.

The pathway to His heart has no signs of aging, no cracks in the cement showing wear and tear of it. Doesn’t matter how many years I have had.. Life changes…

But He does not.

The same Love He had for me in that tiny little house in the years of my first birthdays, is the same unimaginable love He has for me today no matter what my seasons and memories look like.

He has promised that He is the same Yesterday… Today… and Forever.

We may not see Him accurately because we may be looking back to a place where we once lived, walking down a path, perhaps away from Him, cracks and all. We may remember it all differently because it was what we saw then through the filter of our heart that may not have believed that his Love changes not.

Some memories of my childhood bring an intense warmth to my heart that will stay forever. But no matter how life has changed, and it always will,

He loves me. He loves you.

NOW.

As fiercely and as vast and as deep and as grand as He has since before you were born .

I pray that I will look longingly on this Truth and have it ring truer than any other memory I have. A truth in which all my memories can be filtered through.

Go down memory lane. Reflect in the good and the hard, and when you do… paint the memory with a brush dipped in His unchanging love for you.. for me.

For as much as life changes always.. Our Rock… Our Anchor… Our Redeemer..

His love doesn’t.

Nothing has Changed ♥️

What If…

What if...

you had nothing to prove.

No prosecution,(your own mind), no jury( your world) just the most compassionate judge ever,(our God) bringing down a resounding judgement of : Case dismissed.

What if…

fear, anger, resentment, anxiety, unforgiveness, and more had no power to hold your heart hostage any longer.

What if…

you canceled your “subscription” to the regular delivery of offenses and say return to sender.

What if…

the need to defend your heart was washed out to the farthest sea never to be found.

What if…

you only carried what was yours to carry, relieving the tired muscles of your heart and mind. Someone else’s feather is still too heavy for you.

What if…

you stopped paying a price you were never meant to pay with your heart (boundaries).

What if…

you could see with fresh eyes and hear with fresh ears.

What if…

you came to the end of yourself and merely turned around…turned away from this life/ mindset that doesn’t serve a purpose any longer, that has abused your heart and mind for so long.

What if…

you could breathe deeper, sleep sounder, laugh longer, smile wider, sing louder, give deeper, receive deeper…. Love deeper.

What if…

you became who you were always meant to be, nothing more… nothing less (Fearfully and wonderfully made, body, soul, and spirit).

What if…

you had nothing to lose…except yourself.

It would be a brand new day… A brand new life.

So what if…

you start living your new day… now.

Find the Truth that sets you free. Why you live the way you live. Go deep…Because that’s where it lives.

Don’t be afraid. The lion of Peace, Joy and love is a lot less scarier than the roar of the Lion(lies) that has held your heart captive for so long. Our God longs to reveal to us/you what you need to change your mind about.

It’s that simple. It’s that powerful.

He is so excited for you.

Sit with Him. Ask. Listen.

Now is a good time.

Now is what we’ve got.

WHAT IF…

You CAN Do This!

Frantically pressing any button that might recover my social media account, my heart sank deeper and deeper as pictures and posts disappeared in what seems like an instant.

There is more to life than social media, yes… yes there is, but pictures and videos are near and dear to my heart and may mean more to me than others. Friends can be re-invited, posts can be re-written, and much can be resumed, but my life is in my pictures…how I do life with my family…my heart.

The instant grasp of emotional fingers on my heart didn’t want to loosen so easily. I stopped clicking on what seemed like all the right buttons and I just sat there… seemingly frozen.

My inner voice raced straight to auto default: “This is too difficult…”You’ve always needed help… you are not capable…let someone else do it for you.”

My mind traveled back in what seemed a second to times in my childhood I had heard these things and carried them into my adulthood. I’m not saying we shouldn’t ever ask for help by all means, but there are times we may need to just close our eyes, breathe, and take a chance at attempting something we never thought we could.

Change the message.

In my job in the education field, years into my adult life, a teacher nonchalantly, absolutely not knowing what it would do to my mind and heart, told me what I had been attempting to navigate on the computer program to teach my student, that “Even a child could do it.” I was not a child….I was 40. But in that moment…my heart said I was a child… And I will surely not capable.

I was not very computer savvy till that point but definitely not after that. I froze in my mind and hoped and prayed I would not be put in a computer class again. But you guessed it… there on my schedule glaring at me was not only a basic computer class but a specialized class. My heart sank. These thoughts had already traveled as far away from the memories of “You’re not capable and even a child can do this”. But now it gripped my heart mercilessly it seemed once again as it surfaced and stuck in my throat saying ” YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”… louder than ever.

I jolted back from my deep thoughts to the present social media saga. I intentionally started to take one step. Why now? I’m still not entirely sure.. but it was time. So I started, one click at a time. What did I have to lose?? Well… all my pictures and videos yes, but I really could lose way more than that.

I could lose ME.

The ME that was fully capable of solving problems in my life no matter what they looked like. Even a digital problem which was not my strength.

I let myself breathe…and start to believe… believe that I could.

I started to navigate through different prompts, all bringing me to a dead end solution. And then, I started thinking differently and looking at the problem from a totally different angle.

I had let my mind and my heart breathe and had told it something else. Something I had not heard much of before. I started navigating again and was pleasantly, and dare I say excitedly surprised as each click brought me closer and closer to the solution. The lies that I had believed for so long seemed to get smaller and smaller as I realized my attempts were getting my account back.

And then, with one last click of a button… there they were…

all my pictures… all my posts… seemingly just waiting there to be found. My account had been tampered with extensively, so chances were weak, and I could have ended up with no result. But either way,

I pushed past my fears that had taken root so long ago…The lies of “You can’t do this.”, and replaced it with

“YOU..CAN..DO..THIS.”

It says the Truth sets you free. True. But only believing it can set you free. Believing what God says about me and my abilities and confidence started me in a different direction in my mind and in my heart in that moment.

What lies have you been told and believed for so long that have been buried deep inside your heart and mind?

Do they all point to the “You can’t do this”?

Today….face the LIE. Face the problem. Toss it out…. replace it.

And let the words of your God.. your biggest cheerleader… ring louder than anything else you hear in your mind and heart and hear Him say…

“YOU CAN DO THIS!!”

***(only months later, the dreaded computer class challenged me to say to my heart…”I can do this.” And it became the knowledge I needed to create the cover for my upcoming book IN THE MOMENT.♥️).

#weALLcandothis!!

Chapter 1…The Beginning of the End.

I LOVE a good book.

In fact, I love books so much I can venture to say I can even enjoy a not-so-good book depending on my perspective as I start the first page.

As a little girl, my room was a castle for my collection of books through the years, from the inspirations of Joy Sparton on Parsonage Hill in my elementary years to the mysteries of Nancy Drew and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. These books paved a wonderful road in my heart and mind, flying off to far off lands to experience what lept off the pages. It led my adult years of reading to enjoying biographies and inspirations and even the how-to books along with a good fiction book now and then.

Every single book over the years was made up of the same things at the core, simply a front cover; hard, soft, new, small, large, to the interior, the pages in between, and ending with a back cover. Yet the contents of each were so different from one to the next.

That’s what I loved about them. They were made up of all the same from the core, front and back, and yet what was written on each page was instinctively different. Those books became a source of comfort and familiarity I cherished in my room over the years; sometimes reading and rereading them over and over again perhaps thinking the story may change in a small part of my thinking.

As I would curl up in my bed or on my comfy chair over the years, excitement to see where each page would take me would make my heart flutter just a bit.

I didn’t start in the middle or the end as much as I wanted to know the outcome ahead of time, It really would have spoiled the book for me.

So where did I start?

The beginning.

It would give me a clear sense of where the story began and perhaps the background that would anchor it into my mind from which to read the rest of the book. I needed some foundation/root of the story to give the story a proper picture because every page I would turn would build on that foundation.

If in my ever-growing curiosity I would have flipped through the pages hastily and perhaps stopped at a few where I may have found a piece of the story that I thought was accurate, I wouldn’t have known how we got there, and it would have given me just a piece of the story with unfinished business; a story not complete. Or perhaps the yearning to stay on a page to live in a certain piece of the story was tempting, but I needed to turn the page to read the rest of the story. It would not have been much of a story if I would have stayed at the lntroduction either.

I needed to turn the page to clearly know how the book/ the story would unfold. Each part was important but the Introduction… The first page… Chapter 1… was very necessary to know the rest of the story and how it would unfold.

How often do we want to stay in the first chapter of our lives or skip through the pages to find the answers we are looking for without having to go through each page or perhaps start at the most important part… the foundation of the story… The beginning… Page 1… chapter 1.

My love of books was heightened by knowing the beginning, the middle and the end. Staying on one page indefinitely or skipping the beginning all together would have left me with less than intended in my experience with each book/story.

Every season of our lives has a beginning, middle and end, and they are all important. But focusing on a middle or an end of a season without knowing the foundation…beginning and how that story unfolded, will leave your/my story in the Genre of fiction and not a true story. It will rarely give you/me the clear picture of each season of our lives and how it unfolds in order to enjoy our journey and have a true story experience… the complete story… where it all began.

Each page, each chapter of our book in our journey in life or even just for a season, will paint a complete picture if we choose to start with the first page… the first chapter where the story all began, and the rest of the story on each page will come together.

Are you writing a fiction book of your life because you don’t know the truth.. the foundation? Do you even know what you are writing? Or are you writing a True inspirational story that can be passed on through many generations to encourage anyone else to write their own true story, by starting with the first chapter… The first page… the foundation… the root…where your thoughts, beliefs all began?

Are you starting with the end? Are you starting with the middle? Are you starting with what you think you see in the moment? do you write Fiction instead of Truth because that’s all you know?

Invite God to be the co-author of your book as you write the rest of your story together. He is THE Best-selling author of the books of our lives. Ask him to remind you of the courage and strength and above all the TRUTH that already exists inside of you from Him.

Go back to the introduction… First page… Chapter 1 of all the seasons in your life. Your story writes as it does because you haven’t gone back to the beginning… The first page…. The first chapter…. Chapter 1 of your story.

Continue your story.

It won’t be the same story and it won’t have the same ending.

You may just be on your way to becoming a best-selling author of your own story even if you are the only one who will ever read it.

It will change you.

Write your own new story, the life/ story you were always intended to write.. by starting with the Truth…the root of why you live how you live.

Chapter 1…

The beginning of the end.

Send The Rain

Holding on for dear life, my fingers wrapped viciously around the roll bar as me and my family bounced haphazardly down a very narrow trail high above the sandy, dry California desert. Faith in our driver was fading fast, but staying put in our buggy made the most sense at this point on our wild excursion.

The view from my seat was a panoramic mass of dry, cracked and dusty land as far as my eyes could see. The desert cactus thrived in this land, being native to this world but all else would suffer greatly if attempted to grow here, even the roots of these native plants didn’t go deep as there was nothing to reach for but dry, cracked earth and sand.

The rolling, dry dessert plants and sticks uprooted so easily; it was indicative of the native nature of the soil and the desert plants rolling wherever the gusts of desert winds blew it.

Some days our lives can feel like the panoramic dry and cracked California desert, rolling wherever the dry desert winds blow us, our shallow roots to be pulled up in an instant at the first gust of life; rain seemingly a far-off memory, our hearts yearning for life to spring forth in our everyday through the dry, cracked landscape overtaking our minds… because that is where everything begins…our thinking.

Scientific studies show the mind can have immense effects on our bodies, up to 98%, affecting how we function in life. So we need rain to soak the dry desert land scapes of our thoughts so our lives can be whole mentally, physically and spiritually.

The rain can come in many different forms.

Revelations of Truths and wisdom that saturates your thinking.

Circumstances in life that may finally lead you to the end of your self.

Letting go of long-held beliefs that stood in the way of a rich abundant life our God so desperately wants for us.

And sometimes the rain washes our sandy eyes to see things clearly for the first time in our lives.

Our mind, body and spirit are fearfully and wonderfully made as it tells us in the Word, but all of it needs rain. Revelation, wisdom, coming to the end of ourselves, circumstances, fresh eyes to see…and more.

As a little girl I didn’t want the rain as it got in the way of my playing in the sunshine. It didn’t feel good to play in the rain. Yet the rain is needed in our lives for the roots of how we will forever do life and it precedes the ultimate sunshine.

Is your faith in something that is white-knuckling you through the cracked, dry deserts of your life? Are you wanting the sunshine?…the ultimate sunshine in your life?

Know that the rain is needed. Are we wishing it away because it doesn’t feel good in the moment?… For the temporary sunshine?

Basking in the sunshine after the rain is the ultimate gift of living this Abundant Life we were always meant to live.

Today, don’t be afraid to look to your God… the author of both, and and let your heart say..

Send the Rain♥️

And She Flies…

She wakes to the sweet and gentle song of the birds outside her window, dancing in the trees. Her heart is full as she starts her day with a thankful prayer for all the blessings in her life. she has no needs or wants for she knows who her supply is.

And she flies…

The traffic to work seems far too slow for most, but she cherishes the extra time to talk to her God, moments that give her the strength to face the day no matter what may come.

And she flies..

The day hurries by as life seems to happen the older she gets, but amidst the hurry of the day, she walks in confidence that she is living a life she is called to, sharing a hope she has found and is learning to embrace on this journey of life.

And she flies…

Her day brings her home to prepare a meal from the abundance in her cupboards, for she knows from where her abundance comes from. She feels the arms of blessings around her as she sets her table. She sees her ever growing family around her table, and her heart is full.

And she flies…

She ends her day in the cool of the evening remembering from where she has come. She knows she is not only worthy, she is priceless in the eyes of her God. She knows she is fearfully and wonderfully made physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

And she flies…

She lays her head down to truly rest as she reminds herself of the Truths written in the Word and in her heart. Her mind is light and ready to sleep and her eyes gently close in restful sleep to dream dreams that will leave her refreshed in the morning as the summer dew on the garden of her heart.

And she flies…

She flies into the night with the only One who will never leave her or forsake her.

She flies with the One who gave His only begotten Son for her and multitudes upon multitudes of others on the planet now and from ages past.

She flies with her ultimate Healer who is with her every moment of every minute of every day.

She flies, rising to newer heights every day as He opens her eyes to the world around her and gives her wisdom as she seeks and finds.

She knows the generations to come will be changed because she knows she is forever loved by her God. Her heart is full to overflowing.. she is blessed, oh so blessed.

The brokenness of years past have fluttered away in the wind as chaf, never to return as she remembers her family daily in her prayers and lifts them up to her God.

And then she closes her eyes in peaceful rest, for she has Joy.

And she flies.

We Have No Idea

As anyone of my family and friends knows, I love sharing my life stories/ adventures whenever and wherever I can.

It may seem almost too much at times for some I would venture to say, but when that crosses my mind, I remind myself they are free to scroll on if it be on social media and smile and nod if they meet me in person. I have never actually heard anything about my sharing, but let’s be real, not everyone would care as much as I do about my life’s adventures.

I have had the privilege of experiencing many amazing life’s adventures, from beautiful vacations to distant lands enjoying the tropical blue waters and sandy beaches under the grass palapas, book in hand, to adventures in hiking through mountains and valleys experiencing the stories and history that came with it.

I’ve been excited to dream and plan for years of our home renovations that have turned into a place my heart wants to hang out daily.

I’ve been blessed with a job at my local high school for many years now where I have taught and been taught, working alongside students in their quest of making it through their next course or even graduating, getting to know them on a deeper level as we work together on a common goal of finishing that project or test or just simply making it through one minute of one hour of every day as life has dealt them cards that was aiming to knock them down.

And then there are my coworkers turned friends, a treasure in my life to say the least. I feel so blessed to live such a full life in my perspective, but nothing… NOTHING..

touches my life, my heart, and soul as much as when my ever-growing family of 18 children and grandchildren and counting, burst through my front door and stay a good while.

My husband and I have experienced 34 years of adventures on the mountain tops and in the valleys of life, traveling many roads when there is 34 years to do it in. Among our adventures we raised four beautiful daughters and the adventures we experienced with them.

We enjoyed many mountaintops along with the valleys over the years with them also, but that never changed our immense, incredible love for them.

They were ours. Our children.

The most incredible treasures of all.

As our family expanded over the years to include squealing, giggling little ones wrapping their pudgy little arms seriously around my neck and my heart, all past adventures and experiences, although so wonderful, grew a bit dimmer as my heart. My children and grandchildren took up the biggest piece of my heart, hardly containing it most days.

I fall asleep with thoughts of them and I often awake with thoughts of them and pray for them. They are a big piece of me I would never want to do without.

As incredible and wonderful that all is, I believe I/we have no idea how incredibly much our God Loves us and thinks about His children.

It says in his Word that He knows the numbers of hairs on our head and He has tattooed the names of His children, on the palm of His hand. He watches us as we sleep. He cheers us on, He cries with us, and He rejoices with us. He teaches us how to live the abundant life He wants so desperately for us, He is forever by our side and most incredibly, He has giving His life for us and prepared a forever home for us in Heaven.

When our little girls and our grandkids, over the years, have fallen and skinned their knees and have run straight to our arms, we’ve done nothing but comfort them.

I can’t imagine that’s not what our God does when we fall in life and skin our knees and run to Him. His heart is so much bigger then our human hearts could ever be.

Our children, when they were small, especially the babies, could do nothing but lay in her arms and cry or need to be fed, changed etc. And yet that changed nothing in our hearts. I’d be so incredibly sad if someone talked about me and how I didn’t love my children from the bottom of my heart when my heart overflows daily with love for my family.

How often haven’t we painted the heart of our God with a brush that is way less than what He truly is.

I believe we have no idea how incredibly much our God loves us/ His children.

Today, I invite you to take some time in your day to read His letters to you, and my hope is you begin to understand His incredible love for you.

I truly believe we may think we know…

Our lives will be truly different if we would just even begin to understand.

A love so incredible, complete, everlasting…

We just truly… have no idea.

The Recipe Box

The recipe box.

I’ve always loved everything about it.

There is something comforting and memory making about it.

It’s stands so complete. The outside wooden, metal, or decaled; an array of exteriors depending on the owner’s personal flavors.

It might even hint at the type of contents; home cooked meals, Amish, Mennonite, French, soups, sandwiches, pies… secret recipes handed down from generation to generation, hoping to fill the generations to come with tasty recipes for their bellies… and their hearts of course… for they go together.

I’ve owned a few recipe boxes in my lifetime, each card handwritten with attempted precision as I was contemplating each one being taken out and read long after I was gone, for my children and grandchildren.

I say this, for I too have opened those handed down Pandora boxes and lovingly caressed each handwritten card with their contents of “gold” as if speaking from the past, yet still alive in my hands and heart.

As my eyes devoured some old familiar recipes, I could almost taste it and my nose tingled as I could almost smell it.

Some brought me back to my mother-in-law’s wooden farmhouse country table where the magic of the homemade Saskatoon pies, with extra sugar dusted on top, and the homemade buns were lovingly hand-rolled and formed to create the most perfect bun on the well used farmhouse tabletop. A light tap on the top of each bun once rolled seemed a wonderful signature made by my mother-in-law… one that still lives lovingly in my heart.

Then there were the treasures I found in my mother’s recipe box, handwritten with such elegance as had my mother-in-law, taught from an era that had firmly required it; now a treat for my eyes and heart.

My mother’s recipe box brought me back to a kitchen once again, at a very different table in a very different house; a small house, a small arborite table, chrome legs and chrome trim surrounding the tables edge all the way around.

As I kept enjoying the recipe card, I envisioned my mom at her old stove on Hanover Street in the 70s, hand stirring with a metal ladle the fresh summer borscht… all contents from her yearly massive garden. The aroma was intoxicating to say the least.

It still warms my heart as I write this.

The expectation of a recipe box is just that. Recipes of required nourishment, to nonessentials but treats nonetheless…to memories. Yet what I found in my mom’s recipe box after she passed away recently caught me off guard somewhat.

There, tucked between coveted recipes of present and past, not quite so eloquently written because of life’s hardships on her whole body and being… were two cards.

One from my mom and one from my dad, filled front and back, edge-to-edge… corner to corner.

End-of-life celebration wishes.

The lump in my throat didn’t swallow away easily.

My mom’s funeral had gone as planned as per her wishes so the requests on the card didn’t surprise me, but the simplicity of it all, matter of fact instructions of her and my dad’s heart, left my heart gaping with emotion.

All the recipes in that box would have spoke of much life through the years depending on the recipe. From the early days being newlyweds to the last days before mom passed away.

52 years of recipes.

52 years of life lived represented by the recipes in that box.

It told a beautiful story, and now this “recipe” of end of life celebrations would tie together a lifetime of recipes… moments in this one box, a celebration no matter the different recipes of life that had been experienced over the years .

It now seems fitting; not morbid,

not anything else but beautiful.

The recipes of every season of our lives say so much .

How those blueberry pies and buns were made.. the gentle taps… the extra sugar. . the pot of garden fresh ingredients, creating a soup that transcended not only our taste buds but our hearts and where it would bring us back to.

All ingredients of recipes made with love.

Substitutes for original recipes usually left the tasting short of what the true recipe would have offered. Yet nonetheless tasty, warming the belly and the heart.

We are all God’s recipe box and the recipes life has written on our hearts are meant to be made exactly as He has written in His Word and on our hearts, no substitutes. It will always leave us wanting and not completely satisfied.

If we replace bitterness for forgiveness, hate for love, fear for faith etc. because the ingredients might seem less expensive or more readily available, it will leave that soup… that pie… those buns… less tasty to anyone you serve it to including yourself.

Sprinkle some Revelation seasoning He has opened to your heart of healing, forgiveness and most of all love.

Add…stir thoroughly.

Our family recipes are meant to be shared with others and so too the recipes of our lives. But how those recipes turn out and get passed on good or not-so-good, will depend on how the generations to come will follow our same recipes in hope of making those most delicious pies and most wonderfully flavored soups.

If we live in unforgiveness we will pass on the recipe of unforgiveness. If we live life in fear, we will pass on fear. If we live in anger will pass on anger and so on.

The original recipe of forgiveness, healing, faith and most of all love, if followed according to as He reveals to our heart in our all our life’s moments, will bring many generations to come, a flavour of the lives we’ve lived and they will not only taste the recipes and see that they are good, but also taste and see that our God is good. The main ingredient for all recipes in each of our recipe boxes.

The end of life celebration cards from my mom and dad may have seemed out of place tucked away in her recipe box among all the other recipes, yet I believe they have a rightful spot there as it was a recipe of wishes and how her and my dad wanted to end well in a celebration of life, tying together all the recipes that reflected all their moments no matter what flavor they had added over the years.. all stored in that simple little box.

It’s a good reminder that it’s never too late to celebrate well no matter if every recipe stuck to the original recipe or not. It spoke of a life lived, memories passed on and always trying to get back to the original recipes of God’s heart for us amidst the tweeked recipes along the way….

a journey back to the original recipe of Hope and healing … with the MasterChef ingredients of God’s unconditional love …

The underlying, ever solid foundation present in the recipes of our lives…

In the recipe box.