Coconut Layer Cake

Saturday night I was the queen of convincing.  Before Amanda even know what happened, I had conned her into baking a cake with me from scratch.

Okay, okay.  So technically she received the Magnola's Bakery Cookbook in the mail and was so excited about it that she lent it to me to peruse.  That was her first mistake.  Once I got my heart set on baking a cake, all was lost.

Recipe online (per Leite's Culinaria)

We tag teamed through the entire recipe.  I was measuring out ingredients while she beat all the ingredients into submission with the electric mixer.  I worked on the filling as she poured the cake batter and got it in the oven.  And after a short, but necessary, dinner break, we hit the frosting process with a vengeance.

Of course, our tag-teaming ways didn't allow much time to take pictures of the process.  I'm going to blame it on our efficiency.  Plus, there are some of the before and during pictures that I wouldn't show you--thank goodness for forgiving frosting.  But we did get some "afters".  And all three layers of it sure did look beautiful when we were done.

I'm not a huge frosting person.  Having too much frosting on a cake/cupcake gives me the same feeling as rubbing velvet in the wrong direction.  But this frosting had the consistency of whipped cream and tasted just as good.  Definitely not too sweet.  Plus the filling was amazing.  But really, how can you go wrong with sugar, milk, and coconut?

This photo is just for kicks and giggles.  Further proof that my kitchen lacks a few things.  This is the only thing big enough to cover the cake while it sat on the counter.

Perhaps next weekend we'll get bored and bake something else.

Choices

There are pivotal moments in my life that define why or how I do life in a particular way.

During my sophomore year of high school, as a simple class assignment, we were tasked with creating a poem about butterflies.  And the next day, we were surprised with an impromptu poetry reading session.  I was the only kid who didn't participate.  My high levels of anxiety subsided when, poem in hand, I told the teacher (who insisted I read it in front of the class), that I would rather take a zero.  I don't think she actually gave me a zero, but I learned something valuable that day.

I openly share certain things and I'm intensely private about others.

Regurgitating stats and quotes from history books is safe.  Writing about opinion pieces (not supported by facts) or about feelings makes you incredibly vulnerable.  Biblical insight falls into this category as well.

There is something about the internet that makes sharing not quite like sharing.  Not at all like standing in front of my peers to read a poem, or sharing a thought during a staff devotional.  The internet seems to form a thin veil behind which I feel safe and free to operate.  Creating an ideal environment that is free from anxiety or distress.  No panic attacks, sweaty palms, wildly beating hearts, or other strange anti-sharing symptoms.

For that, I am grateful.  That I have a place I feel safe (as strange as that sounds).  A place that allows me to process.

Unfortunately it almost makes real life more difficult.  I've convinced myself that I learn as much, if not more, by sitting and listening to others instead of opening my mouth.  I tell myself that I really have nothing of value to share, therefore why bother?  But I was challenged this morning with the thought that there are things that people could be learning from me.  That, like me, most people learn from listening to others; what are others not hearing because I'm too afraid to open my mouth?

The irony between this post and yesterdays post (completely unrelated), sort of blows me away.  Who actual dictates the value of a thought?

The value

of a thought is not in its truth, but in its ability to make you think and question.

Pea Megeletto

Out day, out of sheet boredom, I stumbled upon a website that took personal handwriting samples and turned them into a font.  The author of the website chose the ones she wanted to create and has an archive of free handwriting fonts on her website from the ones she has made.

Just for kicks and giggles, I sent a handwriting sample in.  She turned it into a font.  Sort of bizarre that I actually have my own font.

Seriously, check it out: Pea Megeletto

What's even more bizarre is the fact that other people use it.  I google the name periodically just for fun and it's always weird to see.  Generally speaking from what I can find on the internet, it's typically used for scrapbook pages.  I guess it's just strange to think that my handwriting is in random scrapbooks of people I'll probably never meet.

The power of internet sharing is staggering.

Early Sunday Morning

I'll be the first one to tell you that I'm not very good with old people. I never know what to say or do, and inevitably I end up in an awkward situation. Story of my life. I just chalk it up to the fact that I wasn't designed to work with the elderly and just keep on moving.

This morning I got a glimpse of this group. I didn't have to awkwardly participate, so I actually got a chance to appreciate on a different level. They sang a song I'd never heard, but the chorus struck me, "we have waited."

How much more profound are statements like that when a life displays the proof of their sincerity. It's the same thing with our lives. The words we speak or the actions we take are infinitely sweeter when our lives back them up. When people can see the that there is something more.

I don't envision directly working with/volunteering with my grandparent's generation any time soon, but I was grateful for the insight. More so, I'm just grateful that I opened my eyes enough to see more than I was expecting.

It is well with my soul.

This is what I caught myself singing this morning, I don't know how it came to mind:

    "It is well with my soul,
    it is well, it is well with my soul"

It's funny because I was pretty sure I felt the opposite. 

Sometimes I feel like life is taunting me.  Showing me the desires of my heart, only to snatch them away, right as I crave them most.  Right after I self-talk myself into believing that it is possible.  Then it's gone. 

I wish I could say this was a one-time occurrence, but it seems to be on repeat in my life right now.  There must be something that I'm missing.  A hidden key, a truth, a message?

As I continue to walk through this dusk-y season of life, I'm desperately searching for the joy I know I'm supposed to have.  The assurance that seasons change. Sometimes I catch glimpses.  A lot of the time though I just feel like the idealist who continues to search for the pot-of-gold at the end of the rainbow.

Still searching.  Still hoping.  One slow step at a time.

Unconditional love

Deep love, unconditional.
A free gift

If I am loved to my core, right where I'm at, without strings attached, then why do I have strings on my relationships?

The beauty of Christ's love is in its simplicity.  Unconditional love.

It seems ironic to me that (in my head) I'm able to justify my decision to (without being asked for my opinion) share what changes I feel a particular friend should make.  Monetary, work related, relationship wise, etc.  I love them so much that all I want for them is a positive change.

Wrong.

Don't read me wrong, there is a correct place for calling out things in fellow Christian's lives, but this is not it.  And we're not just talking about Christians here either.  My call is to love people right where they're at.  The kind of love that people crave, but don't always understand.

John 17:24-26 (emphasis mine)
"Father, I want these whom you have given me, to be with me where I am.  Then they can see all the glory you gave me because you loved me even before the world began!  O righteous Father, the world doesn't know you, but I do; and these disciples know you sent me.  I have revealed you to them and I will continue to do so.  Then your love for me will be in them and I will be in them."

At work this week we had a conversation about a church's role when dealing with less fortunate individuals that show up at the doors.  There are organizations across town that seek to help people, many of which have stipulations and lists of rules to qualify.  And while structure and a healthy balance is good for some people, we were challenged with the idea that a church's role is not to be a gatekeeper.  The church's role is to love and serve people right where they're at.  Positive change will occur through a desire to change, which comes from relationship.  Love lived out. 

Right where they're at.

Am I loving people right where they're at today?  Or am I secretly hoping they'll change?

I desperately want to love like that.

This week

Life hurts right now.

I started reupholstering a chair this evening. I was excited to get started; visions of it being finished and looking amazing flashed through my head. So I jumped in and started removing the staples. Staple after staple. I have a cup full of staples to prove my effort, but it looks like I have barely started. There's very little sewing involved, you might be surprised. The chair covering is put on in pieces, layered like an onion. So all I get for my work is a blister and a scratched up hand.

Life seems to parallel this picture often. I'm encoraged by the prospect, by the promise of change. Yet, that change doesn't come without some battle scars. And it definitely doesn't happen quickly. The layers need to be stripped off before the new ones can go up. Somehow that's really easy to forget.

As layers are removed, they expose pain that hid behind them and the fears that have been hidden for a while now. Life just seems to have an ache right now. An almost indescribable dull throb. It hurts to keep going.

30 things to do before I'm 30

Yes I realize I'm a little late for New Years resolution bandwagon, thankfully it's my blog and I'm allowed to come up with the rules here.  New goals, new motivation, and new things to try.  It's time to do some things that I always wanted to do but never could find the time for.  Apparently it's now or never...

And as a side note: If you'd like to accomplish one of these goals with me (or help me accomplish one), let me know!

1. Run another marathon
2. Learn how to cook a gourmet meal
3. Go on a hot air balloon ride
4. Sing karaoke
5. Learn to fluently speak ASL
6. Write a book
7. Stay up for 48 straight hours (42 done, and as close as I ever want to get to 48)

8. Blog for 40 straight days
9. Learn how to play poker (with real chips)
10. Leave a note in a library book
11. Turn off all electronics for a week (phone, computer, TV, iPod, etc.)
12. Go on a cruise
13. Cook a meal from only things I’ve grown
14. Build a piece of furniture all by myself
15. Visit Las Vegas
16. Watch the ball drop in Times Square
17. Get a “new” car
18. Visit Washington D.C. again
19. Read the Bible all the way through
20. Ask a guy out
21. Climb a mountain
22. Learn how to operate my camera in manual mode
23. Go vegetarian for two months
24. Cut out gluten for a month
25. Learn calligraphy
26. Learn how to drive a stick shift car
27. Watch the sun rise and set in the same day
28. Pay someones tab anonymously
29. Complete a triathalon
30. Milk a cow

Motivation for change

I used to think that anything that motivated you to make a positive change was good.  That the most important part was the change in the right direction.  And that it didn't matter the path you took to get there, as long as you got there.

Last night in my reading I was again challenged.  Spurgeon writes:

"I look at the weeds which overspread my garden, and breathe out an earnest wish that they were eradicated.  But why?  What prompts the wish?

It may be that I may walk out and say to myself, 'In what fine order is my garden kept!'  This is pride.

Or, it may be that my neighbors may look over the wall and say, 'How finely your garden flourishes!'  This is vanity.

Or I may wish for the destruction of the weeds, because I am weary of pulling them up.  This is indolence. (Inclination to laziness)

So that even our desires after holiness may be polluted by ill motives.  Under the greenest sods worms hide themselves; we need not look long to discover them."

So perhaps the final destination (change) isn't really more important than the journey (reason for change).   Something to chew on.  Especially for a "destination" minded person.

Positive change is good, but change for the right reasons is even better.

Truth

Sometimes all you need to hear is the truth.

Not exactly a "jumping up and down excited" kind of truth, but the kind where after hearing it you almost feel set free.  Free some imaginary bondage.

There's absolutely nothing holding me back anymore. 

I'm feel eerily calm. 

Progress

Figuratively, I'm moving again.  Forward progress is under way.  And when I say that, I immediately think of wagons on the Oregon Trail--don't ask me why.  But I get this amazing picture of dusty roads and extreme weather tempered with the knowledge that getting there will make it all worth it.  That's how you get the motivation to take the next step.

Some of my mindsets have shifted ever so slightly, but just enough to get myself out of that rut.  Intentionally changed actions are helping as well.  The road is incredibly bumpy right now though.  Rife with thorns and rocks, and lots and lots of rain.  But the Holy Spirit told me that this is going to be a good year, and I'm determined to see that through.  This is just the first necessary step I need to take.  Thankfully the stagnation of the last five months is finally passing. 

Hooray for progress! 

Anger

It's simply amazing how a kernel of anger can grow.  Morph.  Completely change your opinion. 

Justified or not, it's a little scary how fast it moves.  Especially how quickly it can change you if you don't recognize it.

Nostalgia

Pangs of nostalgia strike like a whip.  When you least expect a kick in the gut is invariably when it finds you, unaware and unprotected.  While I've rallied through today with my resolution to kick complacency, in the stillness it creeps up to remind me.  Unfortunately (for it), the gut-wrenching feeling will no longer cause me to hold tighter to the past.  I finally took a stand.  I'm done with status quo.  Restoration is on the other side of the desert--exactly where I'm headed.

All it takes is a reminder of where I'm headed to ease the unsettling feeling. 

Daily encouraged "They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength."  Morning and Evening - Spurgeon

Promised Rest

I started reading Morning and Evening by Charles Spurgeon last night.  It's a daily morning and evening reading each day for a year.  Coincidentally (or not), the very first reading was about the Israelites finally journeying out of the desert into Canaan.

"Israel's weary wanderings were all over, and the promised rest was attained." (emphasis mine)

Now, whether Spurgeon meant it or not, I was struck by the phrase he used, "promised rest" as perhaps a new way to think about the "Promised Land".  It's a little less concrete of a term.  To me, Promised Land signals a final landing place, a serious shift, a whole new outcome, or major change.  "Promised rest" doesn't.

Perhaps arriving out of the desert doesn't mean that major life situations need to change.  Perhaps reaching the "Promised Land" just means finding God's rest and peace after a difficult situation or life experience.  Learning to trust and rest in Him.  Or as Spurgeon says "where faith and hope have made the desert like the garden of the Lord."  Paradigm shift.

"...unbelief shudders at the Jordan which still rolls between us and the goodly land, but let us rest assured that we have already experienced more ills than death at its worst can cause us.  Let us banish every fearful thought, and rejoice with exceeding great joy, in the prospect that this year we shall begin to be 'forever with the Lord'." Spurgeon

I'm left encouraged.  This is the year that I will "eat of the fruit of the land of Canaan."  I'm not going to be stuck in the desert forever.  The light at the end of the tunnel is in sight.

Resolutions.

Fascinating.

When life feels slightly overwhelming, my personal journal comes out.  I've always been a writer, probably always will be.  Words are how I process the world and complicated emotions. 

I've had this journal for over two years.  And as I face the last few pages of a book I've shared everything with, I've found opportunities to look back at the last two years and all that it held for me.

Certain themes run through it in waves.  Deep hurt litters more than a few pages.  And while it's fascinating to look back and see where I've been (and watch the path from then until now), it's sometimes hard to see the same issues repeated ad nauseam. 

Last January looks a lot like this January.  In the spirit of resolutions and personal progress, it's a little depressing. 

If I don't do something about those/these issues now, it seems I will be bound to repeat them yet again next year.  So in that same spirit of progress, I'm going to do something about them.  I refuse to be at this same point next year.  I'm officially done.

Toby

 I adopted Toby from the Oregon Humane Society about two weeks ago.  He came from a Medford breeder who kept him in a cage 99% of his life.  Human interaction was foreign to him, and he still tends to be easily startled.  After two weeks though he has made leaps and bounds.  He's acclimating really well.  Better than they expected.

He's an adventurer, but still tends to be scared of everything.  Apparently feeling a little bold last night he discovered an escape route through my fence.  So he climbed under my fence when I wasn't looking.  I let him out in the yard right before I was ready to leave for a New Years Eve thing, and when I came to put him back in the house he was gone.

I frantically searched the yard and kept calling his name.  I won't go into too many details, but after two and a half hours of searching I found him in a shed on the other side of the alley, in the far back corner under a chair.  Terrified.  (P.S. It's not very helpful to have a flashlight if the batteries are dead...)

It was an agonizing two hours of crying, praying, and calling people I knew.  I canvassed the entire neighborhood, most of it twice.  I knocked on a neighbors door to enlist some extra help.  I did everything I could think of.

I'm sure it's not a coincidence that last night I felt like God was trying to teach me to trust Him and rely on Him.  Oh my life the comedy.

Regardless, my two-hour walk around the neighborhood shook me (in a good way).  I cried out for help.  My prayers were answered (although definitely not on my schedule).  God needed me to trust Him, so He gave me an opportunity to do so.  Albeit difficult, I think I made it through.