Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish

It may have occurred to you by now that at some point, it has to happen. I’m still writing With Love, but I’m not writing With Love from Africa anymore. The process of re-entering life here in North Carolina after six years abroad, and two of them in Africa, has been many things, including a grieving process.

I’m grieving the beauty I left behind.

Grieving the poverty I left behind.

I look at where I am now, look at where I’ve been and wonder — did it make a difference? Couldn’t I have been more… done more?

What did it mean?

I read stories like this one — about Katie Davis, a girl who took off for Uganda instead of university in 2007 at age 19, and has since adopted 13 daughters, started a child sponsorship program and a feeding program, and is hoping to open a school this year.

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My heart gets turned inside out.

Am I back in the West, and have I forgotten where I was?

I have too many clothes.

I want my very worst addiction to come to an end: my addiction to me.

The part of my re-entry that is currently shocking? How dang easy it’s been to get comfortable. Quick.

***

I think it would be a fair assessment to say that Steve Jobs changed the world during his time in it. He created a market where one previously didn’t exist. He took personal computers in a beautiful new direction. I’m not just saying that because we’re a Mac family — Apple recently surpassed Microsoft and is basically the largest company in the world now.

One of my favorite things Jobs said during his time on this earth was in a commencement speech in 2005, to the graduating class at Stanford University.

I pondered the simple words for a while, and I think I have come to better understand their meaning. Jobs said:

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

When I was younger in the Lord, I was hungry for more of Him. Hungry to see Him move. Hungry to see change in the world around me — hungry to be a part of the change that our Father had in mind for His children and the world He created. Hungry to be the hands and feet of Jesus — going to the broken, touching a world in need.

I was foolish enough to believe I could make a difference.

Perhaps Jobs was hungry for a different kind of change. He was hungry to innovate, hungry to create and develop. He was passionate about beauty.

This hunger of mine, though, it’s a hunger and a thirst for righteousness, a hunger to do the will of God, knowing that if we came together and did His will this world would be a radically different place.

I don’t want to get comfortable and lazy — I want to stay hungry for a life that exhibits … exudes God.

And that foolishness — maybe that’s not getting too wise in one’s own eyes, being hungry to learn, to listen.

Was Jobs foolish enough to believe he could change the world, I wonder? Because he did.

Maybe like Bono, I’m foolish enough to believe that Where You Live Should Not Decide whether you live or whether you die. Foolish enough to think ours literally could be the generation that ends extreme poverty.

All the world is hurting, truly — for a while, Africa was where my hands labored to do some healing.

It might be nice to have some new colors here, some new pictures, a change of pace, a change of name.

{I write these things to let you know it’s coming, so that you won’t arrive and think you’ve lost your way.}

But I want, at the core, for all of me, including this, to be about one thing — staying hungry to hear the voice of God and to write what I believe He says, to write like I mean it. And with that, staying foolish enough to believe that changing the world is possible. With my pen, my hands or even a pair of shoes.

The best news? The adventure is really just beginning.

But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence. But of Him you are in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God—and righteousness and sanctification and redemption—that, as it is written, “He who glories, let him glory in the LORD.” {I Cor. 1:27 – 31}

As always, with love,
xCC

How I Bake My Own Bread

When we got back to the States and I saw the cost of a nice loaf of bread, I was more than a little bummed. My awesome health insurance plan in South Africa gave us discounts on healthy food purchases {brilliant idea, American insurers, take this one up!} so we got really nice, healthy bread at a very fair price.

The Hubs bought some cheap bread at the Piggly Wiggly not long after we settled in, not knowing what he was signing up for. When he tried to spread some peanut butter over a slice and the bread tore, we knew we had a problem.

Cheap bread is full of yucky stuff, and cheap in the bad sense. Healthy bread is pricey. Where’s the third option, pray tell?

Shortly after this perpuzzlement, I heard a rave review (by the Nester) about a book called Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day and I asked my Mom for the book for Christmas. I also got a pizza stone from my Dad for Christmas, and a wood cutting board that has been helpful in the process. But neither of those are an absolutely necessity starting out.

I was hesitant to think it could possibly work out well, and pleasantly surprised when it did.

And when my awesome piano playing, great-cooking, tidy housing, homeschooling awesome awesome photo-taking (yes, I needed to say it twice) friend Hope asked about it, I suddenly realized I needed to share.

And then I got really excited and created a picture with text and if you pin it on pinterest I might wet my pants.

Twice.

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Anywho, about the book.

The premise is that you can mix together a nice heap of dough (the kind made from flour, not the cash) with the book’s very good instructions, and that probably takes ten or fifteen minutes, tops. And you can keep said dough in your refrigerator for up to two weeks. When you’re ready to bake a loaf, you grab a chunk of the dough, shape it based on what you’re making, let it rest according to the recipe’s instructions (usually about 20-40 minutes while the oven and your pizza stone are preheating) and then you bake 30ish minutes, depending on the recipe. {That whole process probably takes five minutes of active effort. For me, maybe seven.}

And boo-yow. Yum.

So far I’ve just tried a few variations of the most basic recipe (I wanted to use white wheat flour once and I accidentally bought the wrong type of flour the first time because there was this gentleman at Walmart who used to be a chef and loves to bake and we had a really long conversation about the book, different types of flour, and the fact that I couldn’t find an oven thermometer. He came and found me again later and had an oven thermometer to drop in my cart.

{Thank you, dear Sir.}

I have really, really enjoyed this learning experience, and the fruit of it, so far.

My honest review?

THE PROS:

  • The bread is really good. As in, it tastes really good. And I’m still just rocking the basic basic recipe. Pass the oil and balsamic, please.
  • It has just four basic ingredients: flour, yeast, kosher salt (usually) and warm water. (Which seems healthier, methinks, than all those funky ones I can’t pronounce.)
  • It is really an un-time-consuming process that could work for a Mom who gets home at 5 or a Mom who’s home all day. Or a Dad. Or grandma.
  • My Dad and I worked out some rough figures on the math and using a nice unbleached white flour I was probably averaging 40 cents per loaf. Mixing in some unbleached white wheat, I probably knock another 15 cents off. And up the health factor. Ka-chow!
  • One single batch of dough will make four loaves, which will stick around for about a week around here because I don’t make it every day. (You can easily double the recipe if you want more, and I think that’ll maybe add a minute or two to your mixing time.)
  • The book has a ton of recipes in it and I’ve just scratched the surface, trying to get the hang of things before I start getting fancy. {Watch out instagram!}
  • It works as bread for sandwiches — the bátard {appreciate that I looked up that special character just for you} is nice, though a bit holey sometimes. I haven’t tried doing it in a loaf pan yet, but apparently you can do that to. I’m just scared because I’m not sure if the loaf pan I inherited is a proper nonstick.
  • All the boys love this bread. The Hubs, the Bear, Tiger Tank — six thumbs up.

THE CONS:

  • The loaves are smaller than I expected. They are, however, a good-sized accompaniment to a meal. A loaf will probably get finished if four adults are at the table. {You might want to just make two loaves and throw them in the oven together if you have a big family.}
  • Because the loaves are small, they go quickly. Baking a loaf of bread has become a part of my morning routine so that we have it for lunch. That may or may not work for you. {It doesn’t last for lunch the next day because we almost ALWAYS eat the rest of the loaf with dinner.} I’m still planning to get a bread maker to do sandwich loaves, but I will also keep doing this type of bread — sometimes for lunches, often as the perfect accompaniment to spaghetti and salad or curry and rice or… I haven’t found a meal it doesn’t play nicely with yet. Pass the oil and balsamic please.
  • It’s a learning process. Your first few loaves might be wonky. One of mine had a booty like J Lo.
  • It’s an investment, though not a ginormous one. The book, $13 used, a pizza stone if you really want to give it a proper go, though you can try it with a baking sheet for the first wee while if you want. They recommend a food grade storage container for keeping the dough in the fridge, but I’ve been using a really big pot with a lid, since it’s not supposed to be airtight anyway. I hope that’s allowed.
  • I feel like I should have more cons but I’m struggling to think of anything else.

MY RESULTS:

So far, really good.

Here’s an early loaf awaiting its destiny:

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This may have been the one that had a booty. It tasted good anyway.

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My prettiest loaf so far accidentally flipped over when I was sliding it onto the pizza stone. I tried to flip it back, but it was stuck, so I just wet and slashed the other side. I prayed a little. It came out gorgeous.

Here’s a more recent one:

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Do you sense the improvement? Are you impressed?

And here’s today’s loaf, a bátard, which started all these shenanigans. {I posted it on instagram, which Facebooked it.}

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It would feel cheeky and morally wrong {not to mention probably disrespect the laws of copyright} to give you the recipe that these writers/bakers worked countless hours perfecting — and I also think you need all of the surrounding instructions from the book to give it a proper go. And they are thorough, though not too lengthy. I hope that doesn’t bum you out.

The Good News? You can get the book used on Amazon for like $12.58. And for that price, even if you only bake a dozen loaves, you’ll have paid for the book. I love you and I like sharing recipes here, but I don’t want to go to jail.

Think you might give it a whirl? Got any questions? Please fire away in the comments!

xCC


The folks who wrote this book don’t know me. But I am an Amazon affiliate. {In case you don’t know, that means that if you click that link up there and then decide to buy the book, I get a tiny percentage of the sale. I might also wet my pants.} But I’m telling the truth and not aiming for the cut. Scout’s honour.

Hiding and Being Found

Our growth and our progress in following the Lord is a much more cyclical process than I ever first perceived it to be. Like the way plants spring up from the ground in the spring, smile and stretch toward the sky in the summer, turn their faces down to the ground in the fall, and become nothing in the winter — only to begin the cycle again. The walk of faith can feel like that…

“I am filled to be emptied again. The seed I’ve received, I will sow.”

Isaiah described it this way:

As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. (Is. 55:10&11)

Like the good old process by which rain comes down and evaporates right back up–the linear side of faith, the race toward the prize, is complemented by the cyclical, almost circular side, as if the race is around a track.

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I often marvel at how a lesson I thought I’d learned some time ago comes back, and how I need to learn it again. Though I first I feel frustration at my forgetful heart, yet I think this is instead the way we were created, with these cyclical seasons in mind. It was promised from the beginning, just after the flood, that seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night shall not cease. (Gen. 8:22)

I found myself just yesterday, hiding again, without realizing it. I’ve been disappointed, but afraid to admit it. I had some hopes that didn’t come to fruition. I had some expectations that weren’t met.

Disappointment became discouragement.

I didn’t want to admit all this to the Lord, and so I hid.

Rather than say I don’t like what You’ve given, I’d prefer to say nothing at all.

I sat in the garden and sewed fig leaves, carefully weaved out of “We’re doing fines” and “We’re really thankfuls” and “Look how much we have to be thankful fors.” And though all of those are true, they aren’t honest. They aren’t real.

I didn’t even realize I was sewing. I didn’t even know I was hiding. I simply thought I was pressing on with life. I just thought things would get easier and all would be well.

Praise God for the brothers and sisters He gives us — that first Not Good in the garden {before sin!} was the It is not good for man to be alone. Indeed.

A friend, a sister in the faith, spoke life to me, pointing to the thing I wasn’t willing to admit, perhaps without even realizing she was doing so. I saw my leaves, and saw that I needed His healing, His help letting go.

Letting go is often a necessary part of moving on — but it’s a part I wanted to skip.

And letting go sometimes requires being honest and admitting you have something you need to let go of. Or something of which you need to let go if I’m attending to my grammar.

Why do I forget that I can be honest with God?

Why do I try to hide anything from the One who knows everything? Why am I ashamed and embarrassed of emotions that are the natural result of the way I’ve been created? He already knows I’m a sinner. He sent His Son to cover that.

The breastplate of righteousness I can wear, the one paid for by Jesus — it is the only true covering, but it is so true. And it covers, and it means He looks at me and sees His Son.

Why do I try to dig in my own little drawer of fabric scraps and piece together my own covering?

I am making an outfit out of filthy rags, when the most beautiful, white, flowing robe I could ever wear is hanging in the closet.

Don’t forget that you can be honest with God. If you’re angry, hurt, scared, confused, disappointed and discouraged — He is big enough to handle it.

Psalm 46:10 spoke this to me for the first time, just two days ago, in a way I never understood it before:

“Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in all the Earth.”

If you get really still — still enough to even try to take that ginormous thought in — you suddenly see how small all of this is. Your hurt and your emotions. Your failures and your fig leaves. That doesn’t belittle your importance — God sent His only Son for you. It gives you perspective — He is on the throne. It is well with my soul. This is all going to end in Glory.

I will not surprise Him, disturb Him, or even belittle His greatness by bringing Him everything — the crowns and the crossed arms, the Hallelujahs and the WhyWhyWhyWhyOhWhyOhWhyOhWhys.

I said I was hurt. Disappointed and discouraged. I said I was sorry I hid. I sensed Him hearing all of it — as if He’d been right there waiting for me to see all along. I told the Lord I loved Him with tears in my eyes — and it was perhaps for the first time in a while that 100% of me meant it.

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Here’s to Saving the Best for the Last of the Third to Last

The Hubs checked out the ten months post last night and pointed out that I’d forgotten his favorite photo. Which was also my favorite.

And it turns out I sure did.

Because it was in the drop box and I forgot to download it.

Because I was distracted by Speedy Gon-crawl-les racing out of the room to find some mischief.

Or maybe it was his brother’s fault.

But here’s to saving the best for the last of the last. Even though this is the third to last opportunity to take these monthlies before he’s one!

Oh no!

So here it is, belatedly.

Be still my heart.

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No Thomas the Tank Engines were harmed in the taking of this photo.

Though one may have been drooled on.

More than a little.

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Ten Months, And Leave the Lid Down

So. Today is officially the eleven month birthday. And I’m posting the ten months photos. Meaning we are a little behind. Though perhaps a big behind at the same time. Well, better late than never I always say.

You say that a lot too?

What a coincidence.

It sure feels like it was ten weeks — not ten months ago — when we made that infamous ride to glory, and Mr. Potato Head surpassed 100 mph, heading to a hospital in Somerset West.

But here he is, practically growing a mustache and sending applications in to work at Starbucks.

And wasn’t this last week?

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But this might be my favourite month of photos. Ever.

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Turns out the Tank has an aptitude for fishing.

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His crawling skills went from mediocre to warp speed in about ten minutes.

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Which means I “have my hands full” when trying to clean or cook or get stuff done

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because this sweet little darling doesn’t like being still.

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Funny expression, that, having your hands full.

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I now know exactly how far away from the potty I have to sit the Tank

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{whom we also refer to as “the Tiger” because of his tenacious attitude toward doing something he wants to do}

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{[after being told no repeatedly]}

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{[(he may or may not take after his Mama)]}

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{[({I’ll let you decide})]}

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…I have to make sure he’s far enough away from the potty that I can get my trousers down and get from standing to sitting before he gets there.

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And heaven forbid I should be in the middle of shaping a loaf of bread or have my hands deep in a mess.

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Because if I should happen to lose sight of this Tank the Tiger who can also be called Tenacious B,

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I most certainly know right where to go looking for him.

If anyone has forgotten to put the lid down,

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He’s likely to be found splashing in the loo.

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{[({Gasp!})]}

So if you drop by the Collie house any time soon,

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please put down the lid.

Ten wonderful months! Isn’t the Lord good to us?

xCC