Barely Giving

Four dozen persimmon cookies –all to share with folks who visited our church for the Liturgical Arts Festival. (The festival was amazing and the cookies quite tasty…)

Chocolate chip cupcakes–happily handed out to many small and sweet hands–just because we need to keep practice sharing.

A full batch of rosemary rolls, none shared, all gobbled.

So… the lemon cake helped heal the no-good, very bad cold, but believe me when I say I couldn’t find anything to help heal the internal bleeding that kept me bedside this last week. Or the two massive rejection letters that came my way. Or the cold that pounced on top of everything.  Oh, my.  Things do tend to come my way in waves. Gets all of the ick out of the way at the same time, I suppose.

So, no need to spread the germs and tell you any of the gory details. Just know that right now I’m armed with antibiotics and tissues, and the knowledge that it’s my choice whether I smile or frown, simper or simply get on with it.

I’m hoping next week might mean a new spate of baking. But even if it doesn’t, I’m still thankful for oh, so many things. Finches still darting from fig tree to fountain, a little boy who loves being homeschooled even when I’m in my PJs, a husband who hunts and gathers cheesecakes when all is dismal, and laughter in this little house of ours despite trials and a growing basket of laundry.

Lastly, an encouragement to all of you to continue to pray for Nataliya. She went back into surgery just this morning with new complications. May God heal her, and bless her, and bless us all. May we find a way to give and love and laugh even in the middle of whatever this lovely autumn air might bring…



Two loaves of molasses bread

Mixed: 1:10 pm

Molded: 2:45 pm

Baked: 3:30 pm

Gave one loaf to Jack

I’m enjoying summer. The pace is slow, and the weather is delicious. I’ve been reading (a bit), and writing (a lot), and taking the kids to the beach. We’ve been eating dinner out back, the doors flung wide open, and slowly cleaning the house, emptying drawers and closets at an even and steady pace.

My last effort in giving fit just perfectly with this easy and grateful mood I’m in. The molasses bread was still warm and I could see that Jack, our across-the-street neighbor, who always looks after the house when we’re away, was home. I slid the loaf into a small brown bag, walked across the street and knocked on the door.
“Thanks for all you do, Jack.”

“I don’t do anything!”

“You do, too. Enjoy the bread…”

He smiled, I smiled, and I slowly returned home, marveling at the still-blooming orchids on the front porch.

I don’t know… The simplicity of it all. Of just baking, and giving, and staring at orchid blossoms, and doing it all at a human pace. A pace where you have the time to sit on the porch for a minute before going in  (where five teenagers are devouring the other loaf of molasses bread). I know school is coming again soon, and that I’ll have to shift into second, then third, and even fourth gear at times… But for now, I’m so thankful for the time to really look at what’s around me–the bird chirping on the telephone wire, the fig turning from green to purple, the yeast bubbling in the warm water…

Yes, grateful.

What about you? What sort of slow movements have you noticed in your world this summer?