Man oh man -- I have not forgotten about this little corner of the web. Super yummy recipes are coming up, like magical pumpkin cookies, a fall granola, and roasted chickpea and cauliflower soup! October came and went before I could even blink my eyes. Our next three weeks are filled to the brim, with lots of guests in our home and a quick trip to California. When life settles, I will finally have time to shoot and bring these recipes to a computer near you, so stay tuned.
With life moving a million miles per minute, I am fighting harder than ever to stay inspired and present in the ordinary. Where’s the loveliness in a pile of laundry? Where’s the inspiration in a dirty sink? How can it keep me creating? How can it keep me brave? It’s hard in the daily grind. So -- I push myself to find something beautiful, to say something beautiful, about the kitchen sink.
Stories sit in my kitchen sink -- stuck on dirty plates and begging for attention. They want me to read them, as I wash. They dare me to write them, so I will. The stories are homemade pasta eaten on the kitchen floor. The first meal shared in a new city and home. Parmesan risotto, after he told me he loved me. The sound of fire alarms and smell of burnt toast. Late night cookies and pizza for breakfast. This is the story in my kitchen sink.
The more aware I become of God’s Beauty in the ordinary, the more I grasp His hugeness and it terrifies me. He is not confined by time and space. He spun the world into existence like Fourth of July cotton candy gets spun on a paper stick. He holds us lightweight by His right hand, with simply no effort at all. The cities and people and relationships, the brains and eyes and toes, it's all cotton candy effort for Him -- a weightless, magnificent puff of sugary air.
This is what we are to Him -- but a puff in the universe, not even a full breath. At the same time, we are sugary goodness too, the bubblegum pink magic that made us want to jump out of our 10-year-old skins. We are giddy joy for Him. We are the beauty in the eye of the beholder. Cotton candy effort and cotton candy joy.
And yet, we would need more effort to half-heartedly blow out a candle, than He needs to blink his eyes and turn it all off because He’s still complete in just Himself. He doesn't need us, but He wants us. It is even more magnificent than I ever could have imagined, because He took His huge right hand, the one that holds the cotton candy world on a paper stick, and sent it to live behind the human lens. In the human ordinary, with daily routines and familiar streets and the boring. I can survive the mundane. I can find beauty in it, because I am Christ’s cotton candy joy.
on a paper stick //
He spun the world
on a paper stick.
like cotton candy,
the prize of the carnival,
for every ten-year-old boy.
the trophy is a weightless puff of sugar air.
if you see his face --
the young, free spirit --
in line for the bubblegum pink cloud;
if you see his eyes
bloom out like a flower
that has just met morning sun;
if you watch his mouth
curve in a cheek-pinched smile,
because what he holds is good --
then you know Christ
because He is both the
little Boy enjoying
and the One behind the counter
spinning it all into existence
on a paper stick.