When you have Christ’s full attention.

In Luke 8, Jesus is surrounded by a crowd of people who want to see him, touch him, and be healed by him. Word had gotten out about the miracles being performed by him and curiosity runs rampant throughout the cities and villages through which he travels.

He shares parables, one about the Sower, another about the Lamp.  He challenges those crowding around him to do more than just be curious or seek to be able to say, “I saw Jesus,” or, “I was there when…”  He encourages them to own the faith that is being planted in their hearts.  Let it take root, be bold to live it out and don’t hide it from the world.

The people continue to press in, wanting more, wanting everything He is willing to give them.

Then his mom and brothers show up, wanting to talk to him about something.  They try to get through the crowd to Jesus, but cannot because the people surrounding him are literally smashed hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder.  And if you know anything about Middle-Eastern culture (Shoot, if you have ever ridden on a subway!) then you know they aren’t about to part and let someone go through just because they politely say, “excuse me!” If you want to get through the crowd, you have to fight to do so.

So the disciples, seeing Mary and the boys’ frustration, try to help.  “Your mother and brothers are standing outside.  They want to see you.”

Now, for a long time Jesus’ response seemed kind of sassy to me.  Out of place, even.  But today as I read this passage and compared it with a couple of modern-language translations (this often helps clarify difficult passages) I saw something different.  Jesus refused to turn away from the desperate, searching crowd pressing in to him, begging and demanding to receive blessing and teaching from him.  He said to the disciples, “My mother and brothers are those who hear the Word of God and do it.”

I don’t believe Jesus was dismissing his mother or his brothers.  I believe his words were spoken for the benefit of the crowd.  In essence, he was telling them…

“You matter.  You are loved.  You are important to me, as important as anyone else I have ever known…including my own family.  You have my full attention as long as you need it.”

He knew the hearts of those surrounding them, their desire to learn the Word of God and please their Heavenly Father.  They wanted to be made better, to know what they were doing wrong and be taught how to live in a way that honored and pleased God.  And that attitude of humility, of strength and determined pressing in to the only One who could provide what their souls needed, captured the full attention of Jesus…so much so that he told his Mom and brothers to, in my words, “Hold tight for a sec, I’m busy and this is something that can’t wait.”

How does that make you feel?  I tell you what, it brings me such a sense of belonging.  To imagine that my seeking after him, asking for wisdom and wanting everything he has for me, captures his attention so much that he will tell his own mama to wait…

Wow.

This seals the deal for me, that no distraction or activity is more important than pressing in to Jesus.  No social event, no social media, no time-consuming “what-have-you” that is done to “fill time” is a better use of my time than finding out how to know my Savior more intimately and use the gifts He has given me to bring glory and honor to him.  It doesn’t mean I don’t relax or enjoy reading a good blog.  (Hello!)  It means that everything I do is funneled through the sieve of my relationship with God.  That I purpose and do my best to live without wasted time.  In the words of Brother Lawrence…

brotherlawrencequote

Or, “Lord of all blogs and Facebook memes, make me a saint by writing only from your inspiration and not to gain attention for myself.”

Or, “Lord of all craft rooms and boxes of paint, make me saint by creating beautiful things that remind us of You and by cleaning up my mess.”

Or even, “Lord of all books and overloaded shelves, make me a saint by reading great words that draw me closer to you and help me understand the Great Story you are writing over us.”

I could go on and on…insert your favorite way to relax or have down-time and just see how, maybe, God can use it…use you doing it…to refine you and draw you closer to Jesus.  To give you an opportunity to have His full attention because He sees your pursuit of wisdom and spiritual maturity and HE HONORS IT.  He honors it by turning His face toward you and talking to you as if you are the only person in the room.

Jesus’ actions in this chapter tell me something very important…

Obedience is thicker than blood.

May we find ways to weave obedience to the teachings of Jesus and the promptings of the Holy Spirit in the tiny, mundane details of our every day routine!  It will be in this that we become a people who truly know how to filter out the noise and live simply…for Him.

That time I bought a Cello.

For most of my life, really…as far back as I can remember…I have dreamed of playing a stringed instrument.  Violin, guitar, what-have-you, they all have seemed so beautiful and unreachable to me.  Growing up, I played piano and clarinet.  Strings were not an option at my school.  But, for the past couple of years, I have found myself fantasizing about playing Cello.  We would go to concerts and I would be drawn to the cellists, the sound of the instrument, the grace of the bow, the posture of the musicians.  As an alto vocally, the Cello spoke to me because it is always that steady low voice that stabilizes the chord.  Though often not in the spotlight singing lead, when it does take center stage…wow.

So last week we went to another concert and I watched a young bass player named Scott Mulvahill ROCK OUT.  I mean, really.  Who would have thought a standing bass could do what he makes it do?  But it does and he obviously has so much fun on that stage.  (Look him up on YouTube.  He is amazing!)

We drove home after the concert and I mulled over my feelings and longings once again.  I’m 45, y’all.  Not exactly a young thang anymore.  Many might think I’m too old to start something big and new.

I decided to disagree with that.

Early the next morning I drove to a music store in a daze of mid-life crisis and desperate longing. I parked my Ford Explorer and looked at the doors of Music & Arts, the sign saying “open” and my heart racing.  I summoned up my courage, walked into the store and looked at the young man who greeted me.

Deep breath.

“I’d like to rent a Cello.” (Did I really just say that out loud?)

“Is this for you?” he asked kindly.

I am probably old enough to be his mother.

I swallowed hard and broke out into a cold sweat. A COLD SWEAT.  I am not exaggerating ONE BIT.

“Yes,” I said calmly.  “Yes, it is.  I’m having a mid-life crisis and I want to learn to play the Cello.”  (Yes, I really said that.  Insert forehead smack here.)

He smiled (I can only IMAGINE what he was thinking) and said, “Ok, well…”

And we proceeded to look around, discussing lesson options and logistics.  Then it turned out that they had a beautiful Cello ON SALE and buying (instead of renting) would save me thousands of dollars over the course of the next few years so…

Y’all.

I BOUGHT IT.

I bought, not rented, a cello.

At 45.

It was like saying, “I do.  Til death do us part.”

But with a bow instead of a diamond.

I own the baby and it is MINE.

The salesman tuned it for me and put it in its case.  I looked at it longingly, afraid to even touch it just yet.  It is just so beautiful.  And it is mine.

MINE.

I set up the payment plan and bought a beginner book and tuner, though I didn’t know the first thing about tuning a Cello.  (What were the names of the strings again?) I carried it to my car and willed myself to breathe normally as I drove home, completely shocked at what I had just done.

But now?

Oh, glory.  The moment I pulled Sofia out of her case (Yes, I named my Cello.  Don’t judge.) I felt this JOY course through my veins.  I pulled the bow across the strings and, despite the scratchiness, to me it sounded beautiful…like something I had waited my entire life to hear. The vibrations that resonate through the Cello when it is leaned back against my chest as I play are like balm.  They calm me despite the fumbling and hiccups as I learn to hold the bow and draw it straight across the strings.  I have found a teacher (Sarah Joy) via YouTube and practice every single day, loving each and every minute of it.  My fingertips are becoming calloused and the sound is coming along.

I can play Mary Had a Little Lamb!

And Jingle Bells!

There is something so satisfying and rewarding about working through that beginner book and the videos one day at a time.  It is in enjoying the process, seeing progress from day-to-day, that I have hope to be making real music a year from now.  (Does this NOT have endless spiritual parallels???) Maybe over the summer I’ll take lessons from a real, face-to-face teacher when we are not in the throes of homeschooling.  But regardless, I love it.

I absolutely love it.

Listen, you are never too old to try something new.  I’m realizing that it is really good for my children to see me do this, to hear my squeaks and squawks and see me fight to create beauty through this challenging instrument.  And it’s good for me.  I had this dream and it wasn’t going anywhere.  I believe God wants this for me and I could not be more excited.  I’m praying for Him to give me the ability to do this and do it well for His glory.  What a gift it would be to sit near the back of the stage during worship, accompanying the beautiful choruses with the melancholy alto of my Cello!  That is my goal.

I’m 45 years old and just beginning.  By the time I am 50 I’ll be so glad I didn’t wait any longer.

What are YOU waiting for?  What keeps you from plunging in and going for it?  What if you started today?  Now?

Because, let me tell you, every time I take that bow in my hand I feel JOY.  Pure, simple joy.

It is going to be a good journey.  I can feel it.

 

My Mama’s Chicken and Noodles

Two recipes in a row?  Well, yes, because I wanted to be sure to share this while it’s still cold outside and our bodies are craving warm foods!

My mom makes the BEST Chicken and Noodles.  I grew up with this as a holiday staple and just started making it myself in the past couple of years because, as you probably know, it always tastes best when your mom cooks it.

Am I right?

So, last week my middle and I decided to whip up a batch for our family.  It is a little time-consuming because you do hand-cut the noodles.  BUT IT IS NOT DIFFICULT.  And the process is actually fun when shared with someone you love.

Now, before I go any further I do want to let you know that I have all kinds of pictures of the steps involved in making this goodness, but none of the finished product because…

WE ATE IT.

My apologies.

But if you make it, you will understand.

Here you go!

Mom’s Chicken and Noodles

For the noodles…serves 3-4 (I double this for my family of seven, triple or quadruple for company!  It tastes even better the next day.  Trust me.)

1 egg

1 Tablespoon milk

1/2 teaspoon salt

2/3 cup all purpose flour (plus more as needed)

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl and work together until it forms a small ball.  Work in flour, kneading in thoroughly, until the dough is very dry and will not absorb any more flour.  It must be very dry and stiff.  Divide in two and roll each section as thin as possible.  Then fold it over and begin rolling from one edge until you have what resembles a Swiss Cake Roll.

Not that I eat those.

Oh, who am I kidding?  Swiss Cake Rolls defined much of my childhood…a perfect dessert after chicken and noodles, don’t you think?

Take a sharp knife and slice at alternating angles, making VERY thin slices.  I actually should have made mine thinner.  It gives you a better texture when they are cooked.Separate the noodles and lay them out on a flour-sack towel, covered with another, to dry overnight.

Doesn’t my girl have the prettiest hands?
I love that she loves to help…Beats and all:)

Covered and ready to dry out overnight.

For the soup…this is where it gets good!

1 small whole chicken (or 2 lb bone-in thighs/breasts)

1 carton chicken broth

1 teaspoon onion powder (optional)

salt & pepper

flour for thickening

Boil the chicken until the meat is falling off the bone.  Add a little salt and pepper to the water as it cooks.  Reserve and strain the broth.  Debone the chicken and either make bone broth with the leftover parts or toss ’em.

Bring the broth to a boil when you are ready to make the soup, adding salt, pepper and onion powder (if you like) to the broth just before adding the noodles.  Once the broth is boiling add the dry noodles, one handful at a time, stirring to make sure they don’t stick together.  Add more broth from the carton until the noodles have plenty of room to move around.  Taste as you go and add salt/pepper to taste.  Simmer until the noodles are cooked completely through and just firm to the bite.  If the soup needs thickening, combine 1 Tablespoon (or more if you have made a big batch) of flour with 1/2-1 cup of cold water and whisk the lumps away.  Add slowly, stirring constantly, to the chicken and noodles and simmer until the soup has the consistency you want.

Serve this simple, yummy concoction up in bowls with crusty bread and smile as your kids rise up and call you blessed.

Because they will!

If you make this, let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

Idiot-proof Broccoli-Cheddar Soup

Ok, y’all.  You are going to laugh, maybe even smack your head and say, “Duh,” but all I know is this simple little “recipe” made my kids happy on a snowy January day.  Get ready…

This will be so easy.

You just need a can of Campbell’s Broccoli-Cheddar soup, about a cup of leftover steamed, seasoned broccoli florets and some shredded cheese.  (I used Mexican blend because, well, I am from Texas.)

Put the can of soup, one can of milk, and the broccoli in a medium pot and simmer on med-low until bubbly.  Serve up in pretty bowls and sprinkle the cheese on top.

That’s it.

Yes, it’s just Campbell’s canned soup.  It’s not on anyone’s diet plan.  But something about the extra broccoli and the fresh cheese just added a bit of oomph and, maybe it was the frigid temps messing with my brain, but it was the perfect antidote to this cold, Tennessee winter weather!

So, try it.  Let me know what you think.  And feel free to share any “not exactly from scratch” tricks you have up your sleeve in the comments!

Stay warm, friends!

Less is…less.

My everyday tasks are made more simple when decisions are straightforward.

As you probably remember, I spent the better part of Autumn 2017 purging like a crazy woman.  I got rid of possessions that I did not need, no longer wanted, and were just taking up space.  One thing that surprised me was the stuff in my kitchen.

It surprised me because I had done a “purge” just a year or so earlier…Marie Kondo style.  But, apparently, I did not go far enough.

You see the measuring cup photo above?  I had four of these 2-cup Pyrex lovelies.  Plus one 4-cup measuring cup, two Pampered Chef batter bowls (small and large) and about eight various sets of measuring spoons and measuring cup sets.  As I boxed up the kitchen for the move I stopped and looked at my unintentional collection.  What was my purpose in owning all of these?  Some had been given to me, others were decades old.  Some were purchased to replace older ones (often because the color was prettier) (I so enjoy pretty kitchen things!) but the older ones never got donated or discarded.  I had a very large kitchen with plenty of storage and, well, the older stuff just got pushed to the back of the drawer or cabinet.  There were a couple of them that had sentimental value because of who had given them to me but I no longer used them.  They were taking up space.  Period.

I took a deep breath and decided to choose wisely.  I kept the batter bowls (because Pampered Chef!) and only two sets each of measuring spoons and measuring cups.  The rest were donated.

This is only one example of the cleaning-out process that preceded our move, but now that we are here in our new home I am so thankful that I did that brutal purge.  Because, until now, I did not realize how often my little decisions had just a teeny bit of added stress due to having too many choices.

When I cook, now, my choices are easy.  Grab what I need and move on.  No more rearranging stacks, shuffling things around or standing there staring blankly before finally picking out what I need.  My everyday tasks are made more simple when decisions are straightforward.

Read that again.

My everyday tasks are made more simple when decisions are straightforward.

We clutter up our minds when we clutter up our homes.  We become saddled under the weight of our possessions because we refuse to let things go.  This applies to our physical lives as well as our emotional and spiritual lives!

Proverbs 2:4-5 says,

If you sift through the clamor of everything around you
    to seek her like some precious prize,
    to search for her like buried treasure;
 Then you will grasp what it means to truly respect the Eternal,
    and you will have discovered the knowledge of the one True God.  

(The Voice)

Sifting through the clamor.  That can manifest in so many different ways:  getting rid of possessions, thinning out our book collection (The. Hardest. For. Me.), turning off the TV or radio and learning to function in absolute quiet, getting up (and going to bed) earlier so fatigue doesn’t cloud my thinking, choosing friends more wisely, sticking to a grocery list or (gasp) reading a good and beautiful book instead of scrolling mindlessly through social media.  It is in the little choices, made all throughout each day, that we begin to reduce mental strain and find white space in our lives, space that allows rest and results in the restoration and recognition of who we are created to be.

God never called us to be busy for busy’s sake, or to have a calendar so filled to the brim that we dread waking up in the morning.

In 1 Corinthians 3:3, Paul says,

you are still living in the flesh, not in the Spirit. How do I know? Are you fighting with one another? Are you comparing yourselves to others and becoming consumed with jealousy? Then it sounds like you are living in the flesh, no different from the rest who live by the standards of this rebellious and broken world.

(The Voice)

I believe the need to have and consume and hoard (whether physically or spiritually) is a form of living in the flesh.  It is sign of a lack of faith, of fearing there will not be enough or holding on to an idol.  We compare ourselves to others and want to keep up, have what they have, or even do what they do.  But if it causes stress or burdens us, holding us back from becoming who we are created to be, it most likely should not be in our lives or homes.

This is not a legalistic proposition, but a practical one.  It doesn’t mean we all have to sell our possessions and give everything to the poor (unless God calls us to) but it means we are intentional with what we have in our homes, creating beauty and space and an inviting environment within which we raise our children and entertain guests.

It means cultivating spiritual disciplines and making sure the time is there, each day, to spend time with God in prayer and reading His Word.  Non-negotiable.

It means being selective about who we “let in” as close friends, trusting the truly trustworthy and choosing to be an influencer for the Kingdom instead of being constantly blown back and forth by the winds of society for the sake of “fitting in.”

I guess it is a little strange that God would teach me this from a pile of discarded measuring utensils!  But, as usual, He shows up in the everyday mundane…when it is quiet and I am alone with my thoughts.  But as I dwell on the truth He has given me, I pray that I am obedient, letting it transform my life and making me more like Jesus who was fully satisfied in His Father.

Yes, may that be true of me.

And I pray it will be true of you.

Home.

Ducking in quickly to share a sweet joy found in the midst of a bittersweet weekend. I am in Texas for the Life celebration of my sweet Great-Aunt, Bernice. My brother and I are staying in our parents’ home…just the four of us for the first time in, probably, decades. My dad emerged with a stack of old photos, every one of which is like holding a time capsule. Our family in the heyday of the 1970’s and 1980’s.

My brother refers to it as “the time before we knew sin.” Haha!

My kids are going to die when they see them.

So, with time short, I leave you with two important things:

First: Love well, for this life matters. My Aunt Bernice did that, and the sweetness filling the room tonight was a testimony to a life of hard work and intentional relationship-building. She loved and served and will be missed.

The second? Well, it’s this:

Blurry, faded, but the love and joy my brother and I shared circa 1977? It is priceless. The gift of a much simpler era. Bare feet and smiles as we paused from our round on the Sit ‘n Spin long enough for our mom to snap this photo. I pray my kids have these kinds of memories, that they treasure their childhood and look back on it with soft hearts and gratitude for the years before life became more complicated.

The Word for 2018

I knew He would do it.  He always does.  Every year I look for it.  In songs, in books, in billboards even.  I wonder if I am grasping at straws or just making it up.  Is it a product of my imagination?  How will I know when it is the one and not something my brain is misfiring and creating of it’s own choosing?

But then, BAMContinue reading “The Word for 2018”