Heather Holleman's Blog, page 201

Step Away to Pray

Happy 4th of July! On this day, I think of stepping away to pray, to seek peace, to inquire of the Lord about our families, our friends, our nation. I think of stepping away to gain wisdom, to confess sin, and to humble ourselves before God.

Imagining the End

Last night, I read some wisdom about picturing the best result of the goals you have for your life. It’s like this: think about what success in some area looks like, how it feels, and what this goal would mean. Then, think of today–where you are right now–and make a small choice to work toward this end goal.

It’s not just about losing weight for a late-summer vacation or gaining some work promotion in the fall; it’s about thinking of the next thirty years. It’s about building a life, brick by brick, because you know what the end goal is. How is what’s happening now in my life adding a brick to the structure? How is it taking away from the goal? Furthermore, I learn from a woman nearing 70 years old with a vibrant life, marriage, ministry, and grandparenting role how to study and become an expert in something in your 30’s and 40’s and 50’s that you will then offer in your senior years.

In other words, people who keep an eye on an imagined future invest in that goal now.

The Coziness of Dark Storms

The sky darkens, and we hear the thunder echo across the neighborhood. We feel so bundled up, so cozy inside the house. It’s always this way with storms. They are scary, yes, but we are in a position of safety. 

The darkness cannot hurt us; it just makes us draw closer and light more candles.

 

Maybe I Wasn’t Ready

Three weeks ago, the robins fledged. On that very day, I began work with the Cru Grad Summer Mission. This morning, the team and the students departed, and I found myself alone in the quiet, still morning. I was sad and tearful and uncertain. There’s always this moment of disorientation and a need to recalibrate, reorient, and discover who you are again when something ends and a new thing begins.

And since it’s July 1st, I begin to pray to consecrate July. I just sit with the Lord and wonder about life and seasons and transitions. I just sit still.

And then, I see something unusual and unexpected in the Winterberry Bush. How can it be? Now? New robins build a new nest right in front of the old one.

A new nest? For me?

For the first time in a decade, I find a fresh nest in the same spot in July. Normally, my time of egg hunting has long gone; I move on to harvesting and marveling over berries and pumpkins and tomatoes on the vine. I move on. It’s time. 

Apparently, the Lord let something carry over–some marvelous, precious thing He knew would delight my heart as I stood at the kitchen window. Sometimes, seasons don’t work as they should. Time doesn’t march on in the ordinary ways. You find yourself spying on eggs because the Lord knew you needed it, that you weren’t quite ready for it all to end.

You’ve Been Here Long Enough

I love rereading Deuteronomy and the beautiful words of the Lord that it’s time to move on.

I read these words in my twenties when I was literally breaking camp to leave the mountains of North Carolina to attend graduate school. It was time to break camp, advance, and take possession of the new territory God had for my life. 

We read this in chapter 1: The Lord our God said to us at Horeb, “You have stayed long enough at this mountain. Break camp and advance into the hill country of the Amorites; go to all the neighboring peoples in the Arabah, in the mountains, in the western foothills, in the Negev and along the coast, to the land of the Canaanites and to Lebanon, as far as the great river, the Euphrates. See, I have given you this land. Go in and take possession of the land the Lord swore he would give to your fathers—to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob—and to their descendants after them.

Something about this God who tells you when it’s time to move on made my heart sing.

Today

I remember a quote from Frederick Buechner in his book The Longing for Home: 

“In the entire history of the universe, let alone in your own history, there has never been another day just like today, and there will never be another just like it again. Today is the point to which all your yesterdays have been leading since the hour of your birth. It is the point from which all your tomorrows will proceed until the hour of your death. If you were aware of how precious today is, you could hardly live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.”

It’s fascinating to think of how precious today is!

Passed Down

My older friend passes down her sourdough bread starter that’s at least 30 years old. She’s teaching me how to feed it  and then make weekly loaves of delicious bread.

I feel connected to ancient rhythms and ancient wisdom. Perhaps, 30 years from now, I’ll stand here with grandchildren to teach them about my bread.

 

Learning to Scale Up

This summer, I’ve been cooking for a group of 25 people as part of our Cru Grad Summer Mission. I’ve learned to take my recipes and scale up. 

When you realize that your’e doing the same old little thing, just on a bigger scale, your work becomes manageable and less stressful. You simply need larger pots and containers, but essentially, it takes the same amount of time to make one lasagna as several in terms of time spent cooking ingredients.

Some of our scaled up recipes this summer have been a big taco salad, meatball subs, Javanese Chicken, chili bowls, and lasagna. It’s been fun cooking for a crowd!

The taco salad was close to this recipe (I was helping my friend cook using hers!). We served it with Mexican Cornbread.

The meatball subs were made with frozen meatballs in a crockpot with jarred spaghetti sauce. We served them on hoagie rolls with provolone and swiss cheese. Chips and brownies on the side.

Any chili recipe works in the crockpot, but we served it as a “chili bar” with bowls of rice, corn chips, onions, cheese, and sour cream.

For the lasagna, we love the Pioneer Woman’s recipe. We served this with breadsticks and caesar salad.

And that’s how we’ve been cooking for a crowd!

I’ll Be Your Sunshine

Today, I find the rare Monotropa uniflora, also known as ghost pipe, Indian pipe, or the ghost plant.

The ghost plant contains no chlorophyll; it cannot take energy from the sun. It depends upon photosynthetic trees nearby for energy. Since it doesn’t need the sun–but desperately needs those that do need the sun–it tends to grow in the darkest, murkiest underparts of the forest. These that I found enjoy a rare bask in the sunshine, but this sun provides absolutely nothing for them. They don’t know how to use the sun. 

I examine the ghost plant and look around. So many plants become her sun. So many others feed her when she lacks that thing inside that makes her independent and able to take what she needs. With no chlorophyll, she’s designed for dependence on those who know the sun and produce that energy naturally.

When I meet certain people in certain dark times in their lives, I remember the ghost plant. Perhaps they come near because they need a little sunshine, and we’re so blessed to have all we need, even too much.

Stay right here. We’ll be your sun.

A Great New Recipe Blog: Little Miss Finicky

You know I love sweet treats and new recipes to try with my daughters. Well I’m so excited that my baking friend started her blog, Little Miss Finicky, that will showcase her delicious recipes.

Her first two, Strawberry and Cream Scones and Thick and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies are already up for you to enjoy!