baked

It started with boysenberry pie. Then brioche rolls. And especially the cinnamon bread. Her hands...how they so easily moved with grace, precision and the perfect amount of recklessness. My grandfather was an artist. He painted. My grandmother was an artist. She baked. In the kitchen, she moved effortlessly and without a recipe in hand, she knew exactly what to do. Once her baked goods made their debut from the oven browned, sugared and risen to perfection, our mouths watered until they were cool enough to savor their goodness.

One summer before she passed, I made the drive to Fresno to learn how to make her pies. Her boysenberry pie was my favorite. We would always take a few frozen home with us to bake throughout the year. And oh how I licked each plate clean. Truly the best pie ever. She showed me how to make the perfect crust and I watched in awe how she could measure exactly one cup of flour in the palm of her hand. I forced her to pour the flour in a measuring cup because I didn't believer her at first. Sure enough, exactly one cup. (I'm still trying to master this, I figure it must take a life time.)

It was watching her and most likely tasting her dishes growing up that instilled in me a love to bake. I simply can't go a week without making some sort of dessert, dinner or breakfast in the oven. And I love it. I love the feeling that I inherited a desire to bake the way she did. I love being covered in flour and sugar and of course, licking the mixing bowl clean. I love sharing my love through baking too. Just like her. I still feel a sense of home, warmth and love whenever I make her dishes. And I hope one day people will feel that way too when I share one of my dishes with them.

This Christmas I made her brioche rolls for the first time. They turned out almost as delicious as hers. Brioche are fairly easy to make as long as you have patience. They take 11 hours to make, but are well worth the wait.




Thanks Grandma!

merry christmas

The presents were wrapped all under the tree, the table was set with genuine care and the ham in the oven filled the air sweetly while sugar cookies were frosted and sampled greedily. Christmas day was filled with family, love and good food. 

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas time as well filled with sugarplums and friendly gatherings! 

Merry Christmas!

This is Sabrina. She says Merry Christmas too.

flat land, illinois

I wish I was here today. Peaceful. Calm. Gray.

Lovely. Even with my cold sniffles. 

breathe

I stepped outside the classroom door and slowly took another step forward breathing in. A breath that felt like my first in four months. A breath that felt like relief. It was a relief. It reminded me of stepping off a plane at the Long Beach airport into open air. Fresh, movable air. I felt movable. 

The past four months were a flurry of nervous questions, late night cups of coffee and stress. Now, it wasn't all that bad. In fact, it was fun. It was exciting to be back in a classroom and I now have 30 or so more people to love. And people who love me. And have loved me, well. 

Monday afternoon, I handed in my final exam, walked outside and chatted with now friends and approximately five minutes into the conversation exclaimed, "we can drink again!" I completed my first semester of graduate school at the Institute for Spiritual Formation, something I wasn't sure I could do four months ago. And after looking into my heart for four months, digging around and surfacing unknown thoughts and feelings, I could use a drink...or two (maybe not three) while off contract. 

Working full time and going to school is hard. Something seemingly obvious and known before I entered the semester, but I think I was a bit surprised. And I was more open. It wasn't like senior year when I was well over my head, but could be a 'survivor' (to an extent). Being in ISF is almost a calling to not be a 'survivor.' I was required to sit with God and think about my heart and life, something I desperately wanted and yet was sometimes so difficult. 

I am extremely thankful for this last semester. I never thought of myself as 'protected' in life. But I now more than ever realize how much God, not anyone else, but how God protected me growing up. And even how He was gentle with me this semester. I am the woman I am today solely because of Him and couldn't be more thankful.

I will breathe a little lighter through Christmas without the burden of prayer projects and books and working extra hours to make up for class time, but with a heavy knowledge of how much I owe, a good knowledge, one that I want to continue to learn to breathe with and for.  

cabbage

I feel like this today. A little fuzzy. Perhaps a little blurry even. Hoping my cold will magically disappear over night...

 

But Happy Rain! You, please stay. 

quoted

This may be completely self-serving, but I thought it was a bit fun when I googled my name tonight (admit it, you've done this before too) to see that I was a "Quote of the Moment" on this person's blog. Although, I do owe the fact that I was quoted at all to my friend, Brett, due to his article, Short Attention Span Faith, published in Relevant's September issue. I'm glad someone thinks I have something intelligent to contribute to this changing world. I'm usually quoting others in my own articles. :)

And for more fun, I was quoted as Biola's spokeswoman in this article published Saturday. Too funny. And since posts are always better with pictures, here is one of Wheaton's chapel, Brett's alma mater, from my trip to Illinois.

(You should definitely check out Brett's most recent post on hipster Christmas gifts...even if you have no hipster friends to buy for, the list is most entertaining.)

quarry imperfection

I have a love for imperfection. I like when things look a little handmade and when the flaw in something is actually why you love it. In actuality, imperfection actually resolves into perfection. It's really a choice of the mind, because when they meet in the middle, it's quite beautiful.

When I was in Illinois, Megan took me to the quarry. I say "the" because it is rightfully that wonderful and special. Here are some perfectly imperfect photos from our time there.