The Secret Ingredient

I pulled a 'mom' the other day. My mom has a tendency to not look twice when taking groceries off their shelves in the store. As a result and much to my dad's chagrin, it's not uncommon for her to come home with an item that she really didn't intend to buy.

In thinking of something new and fun to do with the little girls on Tuesday afternoon, I thought to make play dough and searched the Net for recipes. Several of the sites stated that 'cream of tartar' was the secret ingredient to making a choice batch of play dough. At the store I was pleased to find several bottles and swiped them off and into my cart. Arriving home with my purchases, I prepared some play dough ahead of time. I threw in the items, carefully measuring each one, and made sure not to forget the most magical ingredient of all: cream of tartar.

Placing the mixture over low heat, I began to stir. The formation should have taken few minutes, but after five, it was still lacking several play dough qualities. Except for the fact that the colour was pink, it resembled Campbell's Chunky soup. I began to wonder, "Fork or spoon?". I thought, "Where did I go wrong?" and beckoned Alison to the kitchen. Initially she had nothing to offer, but at the sink she picked up my empty bottles of cream of tartar and asked, "Um, is this what you're using?" Although it may look the same in colour and texture, and the bottles are freakishly similar, meat tenderizer does not replace cream of tartar as the secret ingredient in play dough.

Learning my lesson, I whipped up a successful batch and pulled together a simple teaching to share, using play dough as my illustration. The most obvious passage that came to my mind was Isaiah 64:8,

"Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand."

As the little girls decorated old margarine containers to store their play dough, I explained the simple message of how we were the play dough in God's hands. I asked them to think about that every time they played with their play dough. We can trust his shaping and forming because he is a good Father.

I was enjoying this idea so much, that I opted to use the same theme for my Wednesday morning devotional with the ladies. As each squeezed and held a piece in their hand, the Spirit's presence led to a super cool time of sharing and praying together.

On a roll with the play dough theme, I prepared some more and used it for my Friday chat groups. Laying out all the ingredients before the girls, I related how the flour represents our most basic make-up, that of dust, our flesh. The salt speaks to us of our role as Christ followers in the world. The water and oil remind us that soft hearts are needed so the Holy Spirit may be poured in and make us maleable to his will. The secret ingredient is God's grace found in Christ. A package of Kool-aid, although not essential, makes play dough a whole lot more fun and delightful to use.

All these elements are essential to the creation of play dough. However, it's formation does not occur until it is placed over a hot coil. This heat is necessary to bring the ingredients together. Similarly, God uses the difficult times, past and present, to form and shape us. Sometimes we turn things upside down as if we are the cooks and God is the play dough. We, the formed, say to the one who forms, "You didn't make me, you know nothing." (Isaiah 29:16). Typically the pot doesn't reprimand the potter. The Kool-aid moments, the salt of the Saviour, the oil of the Spirit, and the flour of our flesh over the reddening coils of crisis all work toward the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Still, sometimes his purpose is unclear, our calling is cloudy and we find ourselves ranting and raving in the direction of a certain Deity. He understands but he wants us to know that he is completely trustworthy and so very good. Unlike me, He won't throw in meat tenderizer when the recipe calls for cream of tartar.

Stories Told and Untold

An old peanut butter jar full of tape worms. Congratulations Dave V, you're good, but Jer you knew where they came from. I promised to post the accompanying story but as my brother Derek forewarned, I fear I may lose some readers. Perhaps I'll spare you the details and those of you who crave strange and unusual stories, feel free to make a request in the comment section.

I will say that this shot was taken at a home for the developmentally and physically challenged that I recently visited with our girls. The home is called Eben-Ezer and little did I know that it is under Nacer ministries as well. It was a memorable day. My girls were especially amused when one of the boys took a shining to me. His affections were humourous and a little frightening at times. The majority of the girls rose to the task by embracing and accepting the boys. A few were uneasy and nervous but, I had some serious pride for my chicas. By the end of the day, I wasn't the only girl who had a guy with a crush on me.

Our task consisted in cleaning, cooking, and chatting with the guys. In Canada, where there are high standards for hygiene and basic by-laws regarding building structure and integrity, it is still a challenging experience to work in these environments...challenging in a sensory kind of way. As in your sense of smell is assualted and your sense of sight sees images that you wish you hadn't seen. In Bolivia, where standards are different and by-laws may exist in an unenforced kind of way, the sensory challenge is a billion times more intense. Still, the girls cleaned every nook and cranny from the bedroom to the bathroom, and even washed some pretty ripe, reeking clothes. They even withstood the discovery of the tiny, gecko carcasses.

One of the reasons why my affection for the girls swelled in me this day was because I was witnessing the desired end result of discipleship. It doesn't do to walk people through to an understanding of Jesus unless they grasp the concept of service. Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do. Inactive faith can not save you. You MUST be serving in some shape or form. Yet, let's not deceive ourselves either, the work by itself is meaningless too. If I give all I possess to the poor, and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. It's a package deal here folks: faith, deeds, and love, take them all or throw in the towel.

Our kids, my girls, have received a lot...from others and from various countries. They have been served much by dedicated folk and people who really 'get' Jesus. Granted, they've been dished out a lot of brutality too, but it's all for nought if they don't arrive at a place where they can be a blessing in as much as they've been blessed. That dear readers, is part of my mission for the time that I am here.

My other mission is to determine whether or not my own intestines are residence to a tapeworm or two, but that is another story best left untold.

What Z'it?

As kids we received Owl Magazine, a fact filled, fun nature magazine. It was always a good day when Owl arrived in the mail. My favourite feature was the back page called "What Z'it?" The page would exhibit six magnified close-ups of some thing, be it human, animal, or inanimate. The reader would have to guess what the six magnifications were. In memory of this superb magazine, I post this "What Z'it?". Feel free to muse, guess, and imagine what the above photo may be. In a few days I will let you all know what it is along with an accompanying story. Dear housemates, if you read this, you aren't allowed to comment.

The Aroma of Home

Longing for home gripped my heart this morning and wrenched it like a soaking towel. It twisted and dripped ache into my gut and then hung me out to dry. Like an intense craving, it passed, but I could liken it to the pangs I feel when I've been deprived of coffee. First, I think, "Mmm, I would really like a cup of coffee right now." As my head starts to ache and I get closer to home, the anticipation of putting on a pot and pouring a mug of this gorgeous indulgence takes over. The gurgling noises of the coffee machine and the fragrance of this liquid godsend suggest that I just may be addicted to the caffienated brew.

My inclinations towards home are similar. This morning I thought it would be great to be enfolding my mug on my parent's sofa and gazing out one of the many large windows at the grand forest that borders our lot.

By the time I get home, the view will more than likely be what you see above. Anticipation intensifies the closer I get to flying home. My heart aches and the sight of sweet faces on my screen saver suggest that I just may be addicted to my loved ones.

A similar longing flooded in this morning as we partook in the Lord's Supper. The service had been lengthy, not dreadful, but somewhat extensive. The pastor had several closing points that only served to open new series of insights which led to more finishing remarks and even more novel insights. Mentally interjecting 'amens' and hoping that telepathy had some worth, the final 'let us pray' signaled that it was almost time to leave the building...until I saw some leaders lift a table laden with lace and bearing wine with a platter of bread. Instead of dismay that departure would be delayed even longer, the sight of the sacred supper drew me to stay the length. How long had it been since I had last took the bread, drank the wine, and did this in remembrance of Him? Too long. Being the first Sunday of the month, family and friends were probably dining in memory of our Lord the same morning as I.

Every day the distance between the memory of our Lord and the meeting of my maker gets smaller. Am I excited and filled with anticipation? Not every second, but the pangs for those celestial shores can hit me hard sometimes. For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain. Those moments this morning and the frequent longings to see His face suggest to me that I just may be dependant on Jesus. There is a waiting though and a patient, sometimes impatient, prayer, "Lord Jesus, come quickly!".

Let's wait together. Pray together. While we wait, I'll put a pot on. We can chat about anything, laugh about the latest silliness, and confess a bit of homesickness. Would you like sugar and cream with your coffee?