One Sunday I had to be at church early for a meeting over breakfast. As I walked toward the door I realized there were a couple of hobos out on the steps folding up their blankets. I smiled at them as I walked past and got inside the building.
A couple minutes later they came and joined us and we gave them coffee and bacon for breakfast. We talked to them, asked them what their names were, found out some of their life histories and chatted for a while.
We didn't get much of a meeting done and we had to talk about some stuff with them sitting there, but it was the right thing to do.
It reminded me of that verse in the Bible that says that by welcoming people and helping them you might be entertaining angels unawares. I don't think you should only help people for that reason, but who knows that maybe one day we might give coffee and bacon to an angel?
After all, it's not every day you have hobos to breakfast in a church!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Welcome Back!
Can you welcome yourself back to your own blog? I'm not 100% sure of the formalities involved, so I'll just go ahead and welcome myself back to my blog!
Of course, it may well be that it has been such a very long time since I last posted here that all my readers have disappeared. I would not blame you. It is very hard to read a blog where nothing is written. I sympathize with your predicament.
Even the most dedicated and self-disciplined of the human race (and I can by no means hope to aspire to this title) are apt to fall behind at times. When I first started on my Blog Journey, I was resolved to write as often as at least every other day and never to become slack and fail to post for weeks on end - a practice I always find singularly irritating among my fellow blog-writers.
I seem to remember writing a couple of months ago about pride coming before a fall, but here I am again. My blog-pride has well and truly fallen.
What excuse can I offer? Certainly none which would be satisfactory. Can I claim a new job which has me trying (and failing) to reach new levels in time-management? Can I claim trips to far-flung corners of the country to attend conferences? Can I claim getting delayed for hours on my journey home? Can I claim multiple birthdays descending upon me all at the same time? Can I claim special secret birthday projects which should have been finished at least two or three weeks ago?
I knew you were not going to be impressed, but along with my sincere apologies I would like to claim a little bit of your sympathy when you are tempted to leave scorching comments of reproach - I have a cold that is making my head feel twice its normal nice, my throat like I just swallowed sandpaper and my poor little nose like it's been rubbed with pumice-stone every morning for the last 4 weeks. I also have some nasty little lump in my throat that is making me feel decidedly nasty every time I swallow.
I would like to end by wishing all my readers a very happy and cold-free week!
Of course, it may well be that it has been such a very long time since I last posted here that all my readers have disappeared. I would not blame you. It is very hard to read a blog where nothing is written. I sympathize with your predicament.
Even the most dedicated and self-disciplined of the human race (and I can by no means hope to aspire to this title) are apt to fall behind at times. When I first started on my Blog Journey, I was resolved to write as often as at least every other day and never to become slack and fail to post for weeks on end - a practice I always find singularly irritating among my fellow blog-writers.
I seem to remember writing a couple of months ago about pride coming before a fall, but here I am again. My blog-pride has well and truly fallen.
What excuse can I offer? Certainly none which would be satisfactory. Can I claim a new job which has me trying (and failing) to reach new levels in time-management? Can I claim trips to far-flung corners of the country to attend conferences? Can I claim getting delayed for hours on my journey home? Can I claim multiple birthdays descending upon me all at the same time? Can I claim special secret birthday projects which should have been finished at least two or three weeks ago?
I knew you were not going to be impressed, but along with my sincere apologies I would like to claim a little bit of your sympathy when you are tempted to leave scorching comments of reproach - I have a cold that is making my head feel twice its normal nice, my throat like I just swallowed sandpaper and my poor little nose like it's been rubbed with pumice-stone every morning for the last 4 weeks. I also have some nasty little lump in my throat that is making me feel decidedly nasty every time I swallow.
I would like to end by wishing all my readers a very happy and cold-free week!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
A Crisis Man
"Father, make me a crisis man. Bring those I contact to decision. Let me not be a milepost on a single road; make me a fork, that men must turn one way or another on facing Christ in me."
Jim Elliot
Jim Elliot
Monday, September 3, 2007
The Cooking Of The Chocolate Cake
I was one of those cooks who liked to share the whole cooking with as many people (and things) as possible.
When I tapped an egg on the side of the bowl I liked to share the experience with the floor as well.
When I cooked Sticky Fruit Balls, I liked to have as many ingredients as possible join in the fun. It didn't really matter if all the ingredients that were supposed to be in the Fruit Balls weren't in there and all the ingredients that weren't supposed to be in the Fruit Balls were in there. I didn't really care that I improvised a bit too much and nobody could eat them, the point is, everything joined in and had fun.
When I cooked the soup, I thought it was a shame to leave out all of the water in the tap that could have been in the soup, so mixing the measurements round the wrong way on the jug just helped me carry out my noble intentions. Cooking the soup for a couple of hours in the microwave and still having crunchy onions was just a small sacrifice we had to pay.
Add to this list leaving the salt out of the bread, using the wrong butter in the frosting, forgetting to turn the oven on, leaving the eggs out of the cake, ignoring the kitchen timer when it went off, using the wrong flour in the cake and you're getting about the right idea. My cooking was a little - experimental and erratic.
Over the years, my culinary skills have improved. Granted I still put too much milk in the mashed potatoes so they taste lumpy, granted I still burn the fries, granted last time I did Cesar Salad it was the most disgusting thing I had eaten that month and granted my Mom and sister sometimes still look at what I have cooked and then look at each other with a "we've got to eat that?!" look, but never mind. My pies were kindly said to be unexceptional and I have most graciously been granted the title of Muffin Queen.
Armed with this encouragement, I baked a chocolate cake. This was no ordinary chocolate cake. This was a Death-By-Chocolate-Chocolate-Cake. This was serious business.
I shall make no apologies for saying that it was a brilliant success. It was totally yummy and fully justified its name. It looked fantastic and tasted like your dream chocolate cake (or what your dream chocolate cake would taste like if you dreamed about chocolate cake).
Sadly, my preparation methods did not reach the same dream-like quality. I have never dreamed about making a chocolate cake, but I am sure that if I ever did, it would bear no resemblance to what happened The Day I Cooked The Chocolate Cake.
I got in a fuss over the eggs. I ran out of flour one cup into the measuring. I couldn't find the sugar. I drained one bottle of oil and had to start on another. I didn't start with enough clean cup-measurements. I didn't use a big enough bowl.
That was the real mistake - the bowl was just a few inches too small. The mixture fit in alright, but when you added the electric beaters ...
Thankfully I had had the foresight to wear an apron. In general I dislike wearing aprons, but that day it saved my top from almost sure destruction.
All was going quite well. I was happily beating away and then ... I lifted the beaters one little one-eighth of an inch too high. Really it was quite artistic, if you look at it in the right way. My apron had a lovely brown ring around the middle. The wall had been redecorated for free. If I had been in another part of the kitchen I'm sure the brown spots on the floor would have covered up the holes in the lino beautifully. Why do they always make beaters white the whole time? Spotted ones look far more like ... well ... like they've just been covered in spots of chocolate cake batter.
Oh well, cake eaten and lesson learned. Today, I was making another chocolate cake for more guests. Bigger bowl - much bigger bowl. I carefully measured everything out beforehand and the only thing I ran out of this time was hot water. I was most circumspect with the beaters, keeping them well down in the bowl and carefully tilting the bowl so that if anything splashed, it should be on me, not on the shelves at the back of the counter.
Mix the oil and sugar ... add the eggs ... fold in the flour, cinnamon and coca-powder ... hmm, thats looking a bit thick and stodgy for the beaters, better start adding some of the coffee now ... In went the coffee, sitting in a nice brown lake on top of the sticky mixture. In went the beaters, I moved the dial ... and drops of brown coffee flew in all directions. Over the bowls, the shelves, the counter, the wall and me. This time it decided the floor was beneath its notice but if come spring-cleaning time we find brown spots on the ceiling, I shall not be one bit surprised.
This time the cake is not to be eaten straight away, but will stay in the freezer until next week. I hope that it tastes good.
If it doesn't, maybe I'll take up painting and interior decorating as an alternative to cooking.
When I tapped an egg on the side of the bowl I liked to share the experience with the floor as well.
When I cooked Sticky Fruit Balls, I liked to have as many ingredients as possible join in the fun. It didn't really matter if all the ingredients that were supposed to be in the Fruit Balls weren't in there and all the ingredients that weren't supposed to be in the Fruit Balls were in there. I didn't really care that I improvised a bit too much and nobody could eat them, the point is, everything joined in and had fun.
When I cooked the soup, I thought it was a shame to leave out all of the water in the tap that could have been in the soup, so mixing the measurements round the wrong way on the jug just helped me carry out my noble intentions. Cooking the soup for a couple of hours in the microwave and still having crunchy onions was just a small sacrifice we had to pay.
Add to this list leaving the salt out of the bread, using the wrong butter in the frosting, forgetting to turn the oven on, leaving the eggs out of the cake, ignoring the kitchen timer when it went off, using the wrong flour in the cake and you're getting about the right idea. My cooking was a little - experimental and erratic.
Over the years, my culinary skills have improved. Granted I still put too much milk in the mashed potatoes so they taste lumpy, granted I still burn the fries, granted last time I did Cesar Salad it was the most disgusting thing I had eaten that month and granted my Mom and sister sometimes still look at what I have cooked and then look at each other with a "we've got to eat that?!" look, but never mind. My pies were kindly said to be unexceptional and I have most graciously been granted the title of Muffin Queen.
Armed with this encouragement, I baked a chocolate cake. This was no ordinary chocolate cake. This was a Death-By-Chocolate-Chocolate-Cake. This was serious business.
I shall make no apologies for saying that it was a brilliant success. It was totally yummy and fully justified its name. It looked fantastic and tasted like your dream chocolate cake (or what your dream chocolate cake would taste like if you dreamed about chocolate cake).
Sadly, my preparation methods did not reach the same dream-like quality. I have never dreamed about making a chocolate cake, but I am sure that if I ever did, it would bear no resemblance to what happened The Day I Cooked The Chocolate Cake.
I got in a fuss over the eggs. I ran out of flour one cup into the measuring. I couldn't find the sugar. I drained one bottle of oil and had to start on another. I didn't start with enough clean cup-measurements. I didn't use a big enough bowl.
That was the real mistake - the bowl was just a few inches too small. The mixture fit in alright, but when you added the electric beaters ...
Thankfully I had had the foresight to wear an apron. In general I dislike wearing aprons, but that day it saved my top from almost sure destruction.
All was going quite well. I was happily beating away and then ... I lifted the beaters one little one-eighth of an inch too high. Really it was quite artistic, if you look at it in the right way. My apron had a lovely brown ring around the middle. The wall had been redecorated for free. If I had been in another part of the kitchen I'm sure the brown spots on the floor would have covered up the holes in the lino beautifully. Why do they always make beaters white the whole time? Spotted ones look far more like ... well ... like they've just been covered in spots of chocolate cake batter.
Oh well, cake eaten and lesson learned. Today, I was making another chocolate cake for more guests. Bigger bowl - much bigger bowl. I carefully measured everything out beforehand and the only thing I ran out of this time was hot water. I was most circumspect with the beaters, keeping them well down in the bowl and carefully tilting the bowl so that if anything splashed, it should be on me, not on the shelves at the back of the counter.
Mix the oil and sugar ... add the eggs ... fold in the flour, cinnamon and coca-powder ... hmm, thats looking a bit thick and stodgy for the beaters, better start adding some of the coffee now ... In went the coffee, sitting in a nice brown lake on top of the sticky mixture. In went the beaters, I moved the dial ... and drops of brown coffee flew in all directions. Over the bowls, the shelves, the counter, the wall and me. This time it decided the floor was beneath its notice but if come spring-cleaning time we find brown spots on the ceiling, I shall not be one bit surprised.
This time the cake is not to be eaten straight away, but will stay in the freezer until next week. I hope that it tastes good.
If it doesn't, maybe I'll take up painting and interior decorating as an alternative to cooking.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Perform A Random Act Of Kindness Today
"I read about a phenomenon in Marin County, California. Someone put up a sign on the Interstate: "Perform a random act of kindness today." Sure enough, reports came in, slowly at first, of people paying the toll for cars behind them ... people stopping to help stranded vehicles ... One man was caught in traffic. His cellular phone not working, he typed a sign on his laptop computer and printed it on his car fax: LATE FOR ANNIVERSARY DINNER CALL MY WIFE AND TELL HER I LOVE HER (phone number). He came home an hour later to find that seventy people had called, one of them sent a bouquet of flowers, another sent a voucher for dinner for two at the local poshest resort. Over a four-month period, crime dropped 7 percent."
D.P.E. - R.H.Readings
What would happen if we all started performing random acts of kindness? Right now! How soon and how much would it spread? What would happen if those random acts of kindness were performed in Jesus' Name?
D.P.E. - R.H.Readings
What would happen if we all started performing random acts of kindness? Right now! How soon and how much would it spread? What would happen if those random acts of kindness were performed in Jesus' Name?
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