Spring Baking

Yesterday spring sun warmed my bare skin -- arms, legs -- as I sat on the balcony while trees spread their still-bare branches against the warm blue sky.

Today the sky is a sheet of gray and from my cozy kitchen I could look out and imagine it to be midwinter. Cole has the sniffles and so I obliged his desire to be "up, up!" and carried him around as I got my baking things ready in the kitchen. I made him some chamomile tea with honey and pulled his high chair over so he could sit and drink tea and watch me bake something to take to my last small group meeting tomorrow night. I roasted and ground hazelnuts, zested a lemon, stirred and spread strawberry jam on a hazelnut-cookie crumb crust, and poured a lemon-hinted cheesecake filling over the jam. In the midst of this happy chaos, I found a skosh of popcorn languishing in the bottom of a bag in the corner of the pantry shelf and decided to pop it for Cole and me for a mid-morning snack. "Whoa, wow, whoa!" Cole exclaimed as the little seeds jumped and puffed in the pan. We munched while the strawberry cheesecake squares baked and I washed the dishes.

Yesterday Xhou-Ming, a classmate from my German course, came over to learn how to bake. It's not common to have an oven in your home kitchen in China, and she thought she should take advantage of the oven she has now that she's in Germany but she didn't know anything about baking. So I chose a simple recipe (Texas Sheet Cake) and walked her through measuring and melting and mixing till smooth. In her slightly broken English, with German words thrown in when they came to mind instead, she shared about studying to be a "Frau Artzin" (women's doctor) in China, and feeling like she never took the time to experience life but just went from school to university to hospital in an ever-increasing spiral of stress and responsibility. "I don't know what I can be if I'm not a doctor," she told me. I heard the things she didn't know how to phrase in English: her identity is wrapped up in being a doctor, but she knows that's not really the sum of who she is. Then she told me she thinks it's maybe better to do as I have done and try many different things. "I think you are happy," she said. She is right; I am. But what has that to do with college and career choices? God has made His home with me; He has appointed me as His ambassador in the world. My identity and purpose is in Him, and I told Xhou-Ming this secret to my happiness. I think if I were staying longer in Berlin we would get together again and perhaps become friends.

Tomorrow Heather and I plan to bake a chocolate mousse cake together. She wanted me to teach her to bake something before I left, and we are running out of time. We thought of making it for Cole's birthday celebration on Tuesday, but as it seems we have a surplus of chocolate cake at the moment, and it's a bit more sophisticated than is necessary for a two-year-old birthday, and they are having house guests in just over a week, and mousse cake is very happy to hang out in the freezer for a week or two, I think we will enjoy the baking -- the whipping and folding and melting and smoothing and the companionship of creating together -- tomorrow, and they will enjoy the eating after I'm gone.

As the spring sun will soon coax a garden of green out of the winter branches, yet bare, so I pray God will make the seeds planted during my months here grow.

Spring Afternoon

Spring day at the playground

Okay, so not everything was idyllic

Lilah, look what I found!

Beautiful girl

It's a little scary up here, but I can do it myself!

A weekend in Bayreuth

Friday afternoon I walked to the S-Bahn station with a small backpack, rode into the Berlin Hauptbahnhof (central train station), and boarded a train bound for Bayreuth. I loved the quiet hours whirring through the greening countryside, and when I walked into the station at Bayreuth a happy sight greeted me: friends Tobi and Faith from Bodenseehof sitting by the front door with two pink infant car seats at their feet.

Over the weekend we enjoyed lots of time in their cozy home with babies sleeping on our chests, smiling at our silly faces, or kicking and cooing on the floor. We caught up on stories from the past months, played games, and gathered around the table together. On sunny Saturday we took a trip to the Ermitage, a nearby palace and garden where we strolled around the park and ate our Döner Kebab picnic. Tobi showed me his parent's house (the home he grew up in) and his grandmother's house (an old farmhouse on a hillside outside of the village used by their family as a getaway) on the way home.

Photo shoot with Olivia and Ellie

Sunday morning Tobi got out his guitar and Faith and I took turns at the piano and we sang together while the babies napped; Faith laid a delicious Sunday luncheon and then at the last minute threw an apple crisp in the oven for us to enjoy before it was time for me to go to the train station.

 Ellie

From the train window: my farewell party

New Rittersport Poster Child

Give

A sleety rain pummeled Cole and me as we walked to the van after dropping the girls off at Kita yesterday morning. "Wet, wet -- mess!" said Cole, pointing to the windshield as I buckled him into his car seat. But when we got home, I decided to go ahead with my plan to go out for a run. I knew we would both be better off for a little fresh air and a change of scenery, and the downpour had stopped, so I bundled up Cole and put him in the stroller and we set out.

Thoughts from the jogging trail: sacrificial, continual giving seems to be something God wants me to pay attention to right now. The decision to apply to a mission on an Indian Reservation this summer was based on this stirring in my heart to not just receive but also to give from the abundance that has been given to me.

When I was in Maastricht Jeff pointed out to his class that in Paradise Lost God's power is shown by giving it away (conferring it on Jesus) while Satan tries to show his power by grasping as much as he can for himself, and by obtaining more by force.

Tim Keller was preaching to me on my Sunday run about the story of the prodigal son. In order for the younger son to be reinstated in the family and the estate, the elder son (who had become the sole heir) had to sacrifice. He was not willing to do that, and I found myself wondering if I was willing to sacrifice in order that others could come into the kingdom when wham! Tim Keller turned my thoughts upside down. "The Elder Brother in your story, of course, is different. He was willing to sacrifice His life for you." I confess again to the problem of starting with myself, considering what I have to give up or do, hoping I'll be up to the difficult task. Tim Keller was exactly right: I need to first look to Jesus and what he has done and the willing sacrifice flows out of that.

Yesterday this verse in John 16 astounded me: "He [the Spirit] will bring me [Jesus] glory by taking from what is mine and making it known to you." I could not get my mind around "he will bring me glory by taking from what is mine." This is the paradox: taking away does not result in less. 


A post from Ann Voskamp's blog adds a quote to my sea of thoughts:

Christian hands never clasp
and He doesn’t give gifts for gain
because a gift can never stop being a gift—
it is always meant to be given.

A gift can never stop being a gift. What have I received? What have I not received? And so, how can I give today?

Imagine

Last night, Lilah was Rapunzel, she informed me. She is usually pretending to be someone else, but this time her make-believe world expanded to include us as well.

"We're all Rapunzels -- I'm the mommy Rapunzel, and Claire is the baby Rapunzel, and this right here (gesturing to the empty air beside her) is the little sister Rapunzel. You are the big sister Rapunzel, and Mommy is the auntie Rapunzel.

"We don't have long golden hair; we're just family Rapunzels."

However, by the time we were washing her hands together in the bathroom, she said cheerfully, "I am Snow White who is dead. Mommy is the prince who kisses me." 

(Sung in a forlorn voice as she walks down the sidewalk to the car after church, her steps slow and her eyes focused on some far-off unseen world): "I am a poor lost princess, oh, I am a poor lost princess. I have no money in my purse, oh, I am a poor lost princess." 

Playdough and Picnics

The kids and I had a full and fun day at home today. This morning while I baked cookies the girls fixed their hair in the stylishist fashion. Cole had slept late, and he sat in his high chair shoveling oatmeal into his mouth while I baked -- as ever, a great little companion, interested and eager. The cookies were done and the girls were getting restless, so I suggested playdough. This idea was very well received, although my other idea was not so popular: that they clean up the living room before we got the playdough out. They finally managed to get everything put away, and all three kids enjoyed making playdough cakes and mountains.

Then we cleaned up all the playdough and went outside with our sandwiches, grapes, carrots, and of course fresh cookies for a picnic on a blanket in the yard. Still jacket weather, but sunny and nice to be outside. "Julie, it really IS spring!! Look, look!!" Claire exclaimed, pointing to crocuses coming up in the lawn. Lilah pointed to the bare branches of the cherry tree. "Julie, we're going to have a cherry tree when it's summer!" We prayed for our lunch in German (at Claire's request) and watched the clouds scuttling across the sky as we ate. "Light off! Dark!" Cole exclaimed when they went over the sun.

This evening Mark and Heather went out for dinner so the munchkins and I were left to our own devices again. We had fanciful fun at dinner -- Lilah was Cindy Lou and I was her big brother Bobby Fred; Claire was the mother. Then we played forest (which was unfortunately cut short by a solid bonk between Lilah's forehead and Claire's teeth), and read stories, and sang and prayed and shared highs and lows from the day, and now all the little ones are quiet in their beds. See you tomorrow, friends!

God is Good

I've been thinking lately, as I pray about what step I should take next and trust God about the future, that God is good.

If I really believed this, there would never be a whimper of fear or a flash of impatience or a second of doubt.

Psalm 33 talks about how the plans of the Lord stand firm forever; Romans 11 reminds us that all things are from him and to him and through him. He's the King; he has all the power. This can be a little scary; it can make me feel small and insignificant.

We must obey God; he made this plain to his people from the beginning and Paul tells us plainly that the wages of sin is death. This can be burdensome; following all of God's commands is an impossibly rigorous task.

But if God is good, we don't have to be afraid of his sovereignty -- instead we can be grateful for it. And we don't have to be burdened by the command to obey -- it becomes instead a joyful response to his goodness. God's goodness is what makes trust possible. Trust is reliance, dependence, hope, and confidence. This is completely impossible if you are not convinced of the goodness of God.

The Scriptures outline God's goodness clearly, from the overarching story of redemption to the tiny details of his providing manna for his people, giving a Persian king a willing heart to let the Israelites return to Jerusalem, and healing the woman with the issue of blood.

And I have also found it incredible to take note of the goodness of God in my own life. I love the five thankfuls habit: thinking of five specific things each day to be grateful to God for. Today's thankfuls:

• a run in the bright spring sun with Keith and Kristyn Getty music pouring words of Scripture into my heart
• reading time with Lilah this afternoon, her eager, attentive body snuggled in my lap
• great hour on the phone with Mom including a sweet and powerful prayer time
• Cole's delight in a Dana Dirksen kid's song -- there is a part where she sings, "Doo doo doo-doo-doo-doo," and he lights up and sings along with poochy lips and a happy dimple
• deep, refreshing nap (to hopefully help my body chase away a cold that's been lingering for the past days)

James tells us where these good things come from and that we don't have to be afraid that tomorrow will bring ill: "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights who does not change like shifting shadows."

The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. ~ Psalm 121:7

Sucking & Tucking and a little Flirting

Hanging out with my friends

Sunday afternoon the girls and I were reading stories on the couch; after I finished Claire started playing with my hair, and decided she needed a clip. I brought the box with all of the girl's clips so she could choose the one she wanted. She messed with one for a while, unable to convince it to hold as much hair as she thought it should. She finally got it to stay in, and supplemented with another clip. And then, her creative juices started flowing. Why stop at one clip, or two clips? She dug out clip after clip, lining my face with bright colors, flowers, and bows. The style was finished with two ponytails hanging down over my shoulders.

"Oh, Julie," she said in soft tones, as if her heart was aching with too much beauty, "I just love to look at you. You are so stylish! You are the stylishist one."

Today Cole and I went for a walk to the grocery store. He ran up and down the hall as I was getting ready to leave, chanting, "Go! Go! Go!" From the stroller his mittened hand shot out to mark points of interest along the street. "Car! Car!! Wow. Wow! Doggie! Woof woof, woof woof. Doggie!" When we got home he was eager to show that he knew the routine; he began unloading groceries from their sacks and handing them to me, or carrying them to where he thought they went in the kitchen. "Doo-dee, Doo-dee," he would call to me, holding out a container of yogurt, or a bag of lettuce. And so I could see his genius at grocery classification he'd call out the name if he knew it: "Pepper! Yogurt! Milk!" After he stuffed the grocery bags back into their drawer, he had an idea for our next activity: "Eat, eat." He raced ahead of me around the kitchen trying to anticipate my every move. He opened the drawer where the kids' dishes are: "Plate, plate." He dashed to point to the microwave when it was beeping: "Bell, bell!" He ate his leftovers and then I gave him some fruit. He happily identified bananas and grapes, but didn't look so thrilled about what he called "pepper." I told him it wasn't pepper, but mango. He picked around it for a while, but once he tried a bite he was hooked. When his bowl was empty he asked, "Mamo, mamo?" Now it's about time to put him down for a nap, but I'm reluctant to loose his eager companionship.