Memorize:

"But My God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." Phil. 4:19 (KJV)

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Fountain of Thoughts: Bread Making

Do you ever wonder why your spiritual life seems to be going absolutely no where? Why you don't feel like you are maturing spiritually? I'm sorry to say that this is the way I feel many times.

One of my favorite 'sermons' outside of church is actually a work of fiction. In play, Polly Milton in An Old-Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott, gives a short sermon on plum cake.

"Life, my brethren, (she proclaims) is like plum cake. In some the plums are all on the top and we eat them gaily, till we suddenly find they are gone. In others, the plums sink to the bottom and we look for them in vain as we go on, and often come to them when it is too late to enjoy them. But in the well-made cake, the plums are wisely scattered all through, and every mouthful is a pleasure. We make our own cakes, in a great measure, therefore let us look to it, my brethren, that they are mixed according to the best recipe, baked in a well-regulated oven, and gratefully eaten with a temperate appetite."

As I was randomly thinking about random things the other night, I thought of these random verses in Jermiah 18. They're the famous ones about the potter and the clay. "The word which came to Jeremiah from the LORD, saying, Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words. Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. Then the word of the LORD came to me, saying, O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the LORD. Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel.

Since I know very little about pottery and potters, I randomly decided to loosely translate the verses into something I did understand. I picked baking since I had made a loaf of bread earlier that day. It was a delicious cinnamon raisin bread, for those who are wondering.

Following the example of Polly Milton my thoughts ran thus: Life, (I thought) is like a loaf of bread. When we're feeling that life is ok and going pretty well but is maybe a little dull, that's when God is measuring the flour and baking powder and other little tasteless necessaries. He may also be measuring the vital, but small amount of yeast.

When life becomes tough and we feel like everyone is against us, it's probably because He's turned on the bread machine and we're being mixed and kneaded. And the process is still necessary. I read just minutes after this thought in Ecclesiastes 11. It says there that we are to make sure and "remember the days of darkness." They're good for us.

And now I come to thought which came to me first and was the central one in my mind.
When it feels like nothing is happening, like we're not maturing or growing, that is when the bread is rising. The process of rising a bread is so slow, and so subtle, that most of the time, we can't see it grow minute by minute. It seems as though nothing is happening, when in reality we are in the process of growing double and maybe triple our original size. Furthermore, rising bread requires warmth. It isn't usually incredibly hot, but it is pretty warm. Often, when I feel like I'm not growing, I also feel stress and pressure to be growing. I become frustrated. But, maybe that too is a part of the process. Maybe that pressure and frustration is the required heat.

I love the verses all over in the Bible, but particularly in Ephesians where it speaks about the church being fitly framed and joined together with precious stones, (Jesus being the corner stone) and it grows into a holy temple and habitation of God. God doesn't do things all at once most of the time. He starts with a foundation and slowly builds onto it. And by the way, He always starts at the beginning, not in the middle.

Without the boring ingredients such as flour, salt, and yeast, a delicious loaf of bread would not be possible. Without the kneading and mixing, the loaf would be tasteless and crumbly. Without the rising, the bread would be flat, and heavy. But you can't rise the bread before you mix it, and you can't mix it without putting the ingredients in first. Each step has to come in order.

Isn't God good. He knows that after long periods of rising we can get pretty frustrated. Trials seem to come all at once, but they rarely last forever and ever. He intersperses His blessing with His tests. When we're feeling particularly blessed and excited about His Word etc. He's adding the cinnamon and raisins at the beeps. (I don't know if all bread machines beep in the middle so you can add those ingredients, but ours does, so the analogy holds.)

And then of course, we coming to the baking. That's often really tough. But it's the time when our faith becomes stronger. We're no longer moldable dough that can be turned and twisted any direction. The fiber in the dough is brought out and strenghthened as it cooks to become crusty and strong on the outside and soft and moist on the inside. When we're being baked, we often only look at the intense heat we're being subjected to. But in reality, we're learning to 'stand firm.'

After all that heat, we may be so hot that people won't come near us. God uses the time of cooling to temper our faith and maybe chip off some rough edges. And finally, we get the reward. The baker gets to eat his/her bread. Isn't that rewarding! (And man does it taste good!)Hopefully, we won't truly get eaten. But we will get our reward in heaven. I look forward to the day when He will say, "well done, thou good and faithful servant."

(This has been: Fountain of Thoughts. Look in next time to read: A Day in the Life of:__)

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Tidbits of: Iowa




I tried, I really really did! The truly interesting history of each individual state in the U.S. is difficult to find. I confess I didn't find much until I happened to search the history of fire horses. You know, once upon a time, there were no fire engines (gasp!) the first fire station was made up of volunteers, handpulling a cart loaded with water buckets. As things became more sophisticated, horses were used to pull the pump wagon and the hook and ladder wagon. So that's what I was researching. Almost everything I came up with was about the California fire stations. Yes, I can just hear you all saying, "now wait a minute, how did she get California mixed up with Iowa.
It was this way. While researching fire horses (I wanted to see if a book I read was based on true facts or not) I came up with the famous Iowan fire horses, Snowball and Highball. ("Yay, now you're in the right part of the country) Probably this is beginning to sound interesting. I hate to disappoint you, but since I was dissapointed myself...You're probably wanting to know why these two horses were famous. HOwever, while I discovered the fact that they were famous, nothing anywhere would tell me why. The few facts I found were simply that they came in second not first, at a fire department race competition, and were hugely popular. Oh, and when they were retired, because fire engines came into fashion, they had their pictures taken with the 1912, and 1922, fire engines. During a picture, a fire whistle blew signaling that their was a fire. The two old fire horses were the first to arrive, although it was a false alarm. (I think that's pretty funny myself.) Legend has it that the alarm was rigged by dissidents to prove that fire engines weren't as quick to respond as the old methods of reaching a fire.

That's some of Iowa's history, but I was going to explain my opening apology. I still didn't find much about the state's history, even after discovering the bit about the fire horses. However, one thing leads to another. (I now know that if I want interesting history, it might be a good idea to check fire department archives.) Somewhere in the article about the fire horses I came across the word folklore. "Aha!" I thought, "That's a good word to search when looking for history."

When googling Iowan folklore, I came across a link to a story about "the counterfeit silver dollar." Since I like detective stories etc., I looked it up. And that's where it hurts and brings joy. The December 4, 1884 Fairfield, Iowa Weekly Journal only mentioned that a 'very cleverly executed' silver dollar was in circulation. "there is no proof against the suspect passer and he was discharged. All attempts of the U.S. officers to locate the criminal have been unsuccessful." How anticlimatical is that! Well, not too discouraged, I decided to see if there was a followup. There wasn't. But if I find it somewhere, I'll let you know.

In reading the 1884 newspaper, I was astonished to note how incredibly dissimilar it was to the modern media. And then again, it was pretty similar. News in those days was concise and to the point, and yet, hopelessly unimportant, most of it. The first words that greeted my eyes were along the lines of "G.B. Corns, Pittsburgh, is here" "B.B. Frase, of Des Moines, is in the city" A little further down, (after a long list of people who were apparently "in the city") I came across, "A new grocery store has been opened in the former Republican headquarters" (neglecting of course, to say what grocery store had opened.) Still further down the page I came across a couple of amusing tidbits, such as "A man stopping his paper wrote to the editor: 'I think folks otten to spend their munny for paper, mi daddy didn't and everybody nod he was the intelligetist man in the country and had the smartest family of boiz as ever dugged taters." Still further down was an admonition by the paper to consult the paper's office before subscribing to any other paper. And then followed "An old man who said he had two sons in the newspaper business recently applied for admission for the almshouse. The sons, who are traveling in the same direction, say they were willing to support their father, but he refuses to live on cough syrups, kidney pads and liver regulators...the man chose the almshouse instead"

I wondered, even as I laughed at this paper, whether it was really any different from today's paper. So, I looked up Fairfield's Daily Ledger (the weekly journal, can anyone be surprised? is out of business.) My eyes were greeted with headlines such as "City plans to disconnect sump pumps," "Goodwill store moving to town" (at least they said the name of the store.) Obituaries followed, with only an occasional interesting headlines such as, "grenade scare closes parts of town" and "fire fighter's fight smouldering hay fire for 9.5 hours."

Am I the only one that sees a strong similarity? The only dissimilarity that I could see was that modern newspapers are a little bit more detailed. You know, instead of 10 words, they use an hundred to make the same boring point.

So, that was my adventure while researching Iowa. While I didn't find very much, I think that if I refine my researching a little, I can utilize useful things such as old newspapers and fire department archives. Hopefully, I'll run across something more interesting however. Oh, and a couple of more things about Iowa. Iowa is home to: tinsmithing, quilting, willow basket weaving, gardening, cooking, and zither playing. (whatever that is.) (Never mind, I looked it up) A zither is a flat board with strings. It is used extensively in Hungary, Slovenia, Austria, and Germany. It looks kind of fun. (The picture went and stuck itself at the top...oh well.)

(This has been: Tidbits of Iowa. Look in next time to read: Foutain of Thoughts)

Monday, October 4, 2010

Stories of My Life: Sticky, Sticky, Sticky

I don't actually remember this experience, but I've been told about it so often, it feels like I remember it. It all happened once upon a time, a long time ago. I was very small.

Two of my older siblings were sitting in the living room doing school with Mom. Except for Mom's voice, and an occasional answer from the two, all was pretty quiet in the house. My other sibling and I were two young at the time to be doing school, and so we amused ourselves in another part of the house. Thus, it was only mostly quiet. For a while that is.

Gradually the noise proceeding from my part of the house ceased. Most people other than a mother would assume that my brother and I had fallen asleep. When Mom noticed the quiet however, she knew otherwise. For little children, quiet just as often means trouble as it does sleep.

Mom finished quickly her studies with my two older siblings and proceeded towards the kitchen. There, she was confronted with a horrible sight. Earlier in the day or week, my oldest brother had been (clandestinely) in the honey. He had forgotten to screw the lid of the 3 gallon jar on tightly.

Seated happily in the middle of the kitchen floor, I had a pool of honey around me, one hand in my mouth and one in the jar of honey. Yum, yumm, yummm! Mom swooped down upon me, and started to pick me up, (probably to give me a spanking. I deserved it. Naughty girl!) Unfortunately, all Mom's efforts to pick me up were thwarted by the pool of honey surrounding me. I was stuck to the floor.

When she finally released me from the sticky grasp of the kitchen floor, Mom had to call Poison control because I had eaten so much honey and had become sick. While this was going on, more horrors were being perpetrated. My other brother, you will remember, was an accomplice in the crime.

My brother had become tired of actually eating the honey. Fastidious at times, it was in evidence now. He had discovered that his hands were sticky and wanted to get the honey off. With this goal in mind, he wandered around the house wiping his hands on everything; door knobs, towels, cupboards, floor, wall, and carpet.

Needless to say, he also got in trouble. (I think I avoided a spanking because I got sick.) My oldest brother also got in trouble, for getting in the honey earlier that week. Now, we all live happily ever after, and somewhere in my lifetime, I acquired a taste for honey. Now I wonder where that came from!

(This has been Stories of My Life. Look in next time to read Tidbits of:__)