A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Together

On Lent and Cravings

 

Pressing in and pressing on is pushing against the tide of sin and disbelief, and pushing towards what you've made a habit of clinging to in calmer waters: that Jesus is enough.

Ruth Chou Simons

 

 

***

We are in the final days of Lent.  Four more days of meatless meals.  As I type my mouth is watering for a morsel of steak.  Within the last two weeks commercials featuring beefy sandwiches have prompted us to switch channels.  Recently, whilst ordering an Americano I was visually assaulted by an advertisement for BBQ Beef Brisket on Sourdough, which apparently Starbucks is now offering.  I have ceased scouring the Internet for "fun-family-friendly-vegetarian-recipes-that-satisfy." I have hit my black-bean-as-an-alternative limit.  In fact, we ordered take out twice over the weekend to avoid the final "Delicious Black Bean Burrito" recipe that promises they are "soooo good you'll want to have them every night."  I'm sure they are.  But. We. Just. Can't.  Days ago, I told Jeff that I actually feel the absence of iron in my blood.  Perhaps I should have considered iron supplements.

 

The more I have considered my sudden obsession with meat consumption, the more significant the act of giving something up has meant to me.  Previously I have given up, among other things, bread (a sixth love language), potatoes (a comfort), television (a favorite pastime), and secular music (a source of entertainment).  While I have missed each of those things throughout the forty days, I do not recall feeling the absence of them so distinctly.  These cravings have illuminated what it means for me to long for something.  While being confronted with my ever increasing desire to consume a triple cheeseburger, which in all honestly seems embarrassingly trivial, an even greater realization has taken shape in my heart and mind.  So often, what it is I'm longing for is temporal. 

The season of Lent is about anticipation, remembrance, slowing one's pace, engaging, embracing the ache, awaiting the promise of all things renewed.  We give up in order that we might be filled - filled with His Spirit that stirs our souls, filled with His love that satisfies the deepest longings of our hearts, filled with the knowledge that He is making all things new, filled with hope for that which is unseen and yet to come. 

This past Sunday, as the lyrics for "Hosanna" were projected and I sang the following I was overcome with an ache to live out my days with greater clarity and purpose.

Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me

Break my heart for what breaks yours
Everything I am for Your kingdom's cause
As I walk from earth into eternity

May my eyes look beyond the many temporal cravings and temptations before me, may my heart break for that which breaks His, may I catch a vision for that which is greater than what my eyes alone can see, and may I savor the flavor of the perfectly grilled burger that awaits me Sunday.




 

Lent 2016

Psalm 51:16-19

The Passion Translation

 

For the source of your pleasure is not in my performance or the sacrifices I might offer you.

The fountain of your pleasure is found in the sacrifice of my shattered heart before you.  You will not despise my tenderness as I humbly bow down at your feet!

Because your favor Zion, do what is good for her.  Be the protecting wall around Jerusalem.

And, when we are fully restored, you will rejoice and take delight in every offering of our lives as we bring our every sacrifice of righteousness before you in love!

 

 

 

This is the first year we are participating in the Lenten season as a family.  After several family discussions, we decided to give up meat for Lent.  We are now half way through the forty days and the family discussions continue.  Why are we choosing to eat vegetarian?  Is it okay to eat meat if it is served for us at someone's home?  Daddy, did you know this is chicken?  What is grace? We have tried countless new recipes, rated them, broken down their ingredients, highlighted favorites and decided that is okay not to love every new dish that is presented at the table. There have been honest emotions, tears shed (over the fact that Chick-fil-A would not be an option for forty days), and vulnerable hearts.  The act of giving up a favorite food (we are raising little carnivores) has resulted in many opportunities to reflect on what has {already} been done on our behalf.  "...but God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

 

A few NEW family favorites to savor:

 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2015/02/spaghetti-pangrattato-with-fried-eggs/

 

 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2014/09/corn-cheddar-and-scallion-strata/

 

 

http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2014/03/broccoli-cheddar-and-wild-rice-casserole/

 

 

http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2013/10/crispy-kale-brussels-sprouts-potato-hash.html

 

 

http://cupofjo.com/2016/02/mediterranean-soup-with-white-beans-kale-and-pasta/



A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Valentine's Day Book Picks 2K16

The Final First Birthday

It occurred to me on an ordinary day in January when responding to a question I was frequently asked. 

 

Polite stranger smiling - "How old is he?"

Me, politely smiling - "Eleven months."

 

And, then the realization that in a mere month, our final babe would turn one.  Later that day a quick Google search for the perfect first birthday invitation to inspire the theme and color scheme of our final first birthday party.  The countdown had begun.

 

 

 

Friends and family gathered for our littlest man's special day.  He awoke to a house full of loved ones ready to celebrate this special milestone, marvel over his wobbly steps, observe with great anticipation as he gently poked his miniature white cake with cream cheese frosting seeking guidance and approval before fully appreciating his first bites, and clap as each piece of tissue paper was scrunched and tossed aside revealing special treasures perfect for a boy of one.

 

He has always appreciated the attention of others, his bashful smile and subtle tilt of the head his trademark sign of deep and satisfying pleasure.  With each clap and raise of his arms, I looked on marveling over our boy, our last little Larson.

 

Before cake we gathered, Jeff offering words of gratitude to those who have influenced and supported us throughout the years, but this past one in particular as we welcomed Everett David into the world.  He concluded with one final sentiment, "Thank you for coming to share in our last first birthday party." And, then the tears of a young mother who knew this day would one day come and the realization that it had, in fact, arrived. 

 

I struck a match and we gathered round, voices young and old singing a familiar tune of joyful celebration.  His siblings sang out, eyes bright, awaiting their little brother's first candle to be blown out.  I puffed, and met the gaze of my littlest man.  One. 

 

What is it about a tiny person devouring his first bites of cake? We kept our gaze firmly on the birthday boy as he patted and poked, toying with the idea of licking his fingers.  Watching his older siblings delight in his slow and steady approach to eating was a highlight of the day.  

 

There have been many milestones in his first year of life, some documented, far more that have not. This is the product of life that is full, and his place as number four.  And, while I cannot remember his first food (I think it may have been sweet potatoes) or the date he began consistently sleeping through the night (it happened in month ten), I can recall many precious and tender moments that were shared in year one. The late night feedings that brought he and I to the living room sofa, the way he has always felt perfectly small in my arms, his ability to find my eyes in a room...always, his bashful yet engaging spirit, being held by older siblings on the couch at night when the lights were low and the house seemed perfectly quiet and peaceful, first visitors, placing him next to his older brother in bed before final prayers were said and the look of pure love and delight that would wash over his brother's eyes, first outings with all four littles, the looks and comments of people as we made our way around town, our crew always together, a force to be reckoned with.  So many beautiful moments wrapped up into one year.  

 

I could sing a thousand songs about you still that would not do
There’s a million tiny things that make the things that you do, you
I wouldn’t trade our time together, wouldn’t trade for anything
Cause nothing else here in the world can bring the happiness you bring

 

And I am, over-whelmed, by you
Am, over come with joy
You’ve, taken me higher, and shown me what love can do
Where would I go, or be, without you

 

Overwhelmed by Tim McMorris