Beauty on the Backroads

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Gluten-free baking: a lesson in holiness

It’s no secret that the state of  my kitchen is usually such that a health department inspection would net me some violations.

My sink is full of dirty dishes. There’s food on the floor. And apparently I’m supplying an ant colony with its winter rations. (Side note: My daughter wants to watch A Bug’s Life. I’m afraid she will start to sympathize with the ants. The dilemmas of parenthood are endless.)

I clean; I’m just not always regular about it. Occasionally it shames me, but I try not to let it bother me too much.

Last week I made cookies for a family who is dear to us. The mom — we’ll call her Dawn because that’s her name — offered to watch our two kids plus her two kids by herself so my husband and I could go to the senior banquet at the seminary. I should also note that her husband is graduating, and they were unable to attend the banquet because her hubby was out of town. Sacrifices, people, are a beautiful thing.

This family is so inspiring. A couple of years ago, a diagnosis of Celiac Disease, forced them into a gluten-free lifestyle, which is easier now than it used to be but still not easy. Dawn has had to educate herself on gluten and all the possible traces of gluten in products. She consults a book for new and unfamiliar products. She calls the company if she can’t find the information in the book. She’s amazing. And her husband — he doesn’t have to eat gluten-free for health reasons, but he does because he loves his wife and daughters and doesn’t want to make them sick. Again, the sacrifices.

Back to the cookies. I have prepared food for this family before, but baking took it to a whole new level. I’ve even made gluten-free brownies before. These cookies, flourless peanut butter cookies, were not billed as gluten-free, per se, but after consulting with Dawn, I got the go-ahead to make them for the Friday night babysitting extravaganza.

The final product

This would be no ordinary cookie baking event. I scrubbed down the mixer from top to bottom. I used separate wash rags for cleaning. I cleaned each utensil, each measuring cup before I used it on the off chance that I forgot to wash it the last time I used it. Separate spoons. Washing hands. Keeping the kids away from the ingredients. A new jar of peanut butter so no trace of gluten from PB&J sandwiches would cross-contaminate. I focused solely on the task at hand, trying not to touch anything else in the kitchen or do any other household chores while I was in the cookie-making process.

I took care to keep the cookies free of any trace of gluten for love of my friends.

And I wondered if I cared as much about keeping my life free of contaminants for the love of Jesus, who calls me to purity and holiness.

I don’t have to earn my holiness. I never could.

I do have to work at it, though.

While making the cookies, I couldn’t cut corners. For my friend, it’s not that she can’t have a lot of gluten it’s that she can’t have ANY gluten. With sin, it’s not that God wants people to have only a little sin in their lives. He wants us to have NO sin in our lives.

It’s not a perfect illustration because maybe we won’t ever totally eliminate sin in our lives. The death of Jesus, however, makes it possible for us to be with God even though we have sinned and do sin.

In response, we work to eliminate sin in our lives so we can present ourselves pure before Him. His grace fills in the gaps where we fail.

All that from a batch of cookies. (Which were delicious, if I do say so myself. Despite the fact that I am NOT a food photographer.)

Anybody hungry for holiness?

Saturday smiles: birthday edition

Now that I have your attention … welcome to the birthday edition of Saturday Smiles. It’s been a great two days. Here are some of the highlights.

This is my cake. Boston Cream Pie. Homemade. From scratch. By my husband.

I’ll let that sink in for a minute. I mean, he used cake flour and everything to bake the cake, and he made pudding from scratch. I am so impressed. By the way it was tasty. Isabelle even licked her plate. I didn’t get a picture of that.

We do have a picture of this.

Flattering, I know. What’s funnier is after all that effort I appear to be putting in to blowing out ONE candle on the cake, it remained lit. I was too far away. Or so my husband said. I leaned in and gave it another try. Nevermind that our son nearly blew it out before the family started singing. Good thing there was only one candle and not significantly more.

I commissioned my own homemade cards from the kids yesterday. They used “project paper” — Corban’s term for construction paper — and scissors and pens. Isabelle cut and folded. Corban stuck stickers on and scribbled. I was not allowed to be in the room while they worked but I did hear Isabelle composing her messages out loud. It sounded something like this:

“Dear Mommy, I love you as much as you love me. You make me sooooo happy. Love, Izzy and Corban.”

Heart melted? Check.

Later her cards contained messages of concern: “Who will help you celebrate your party? Who will say ‘happy birthday’?”

Though it was a small, private party, I did receive lots of love in the mail and from a couple of visitors who dropped by with gifts and cards. It’s nice to be remembered on your birthday.

By sheer coincidence, I got to share my birthday with the entirety of the kids’ storytime group. The theme was birthdays, and when the leader asked if anyone had a birthday recently, Isabelle piped up: “My mommy does!” I think one of the cutest things was another little 4-year-old girl telling me “Happy Birthday.” The kids made “cakes” out of homemade modeling dough for the craft. They brought it home and haven’t stopped making cakes.

Corban can be very serious about his art. He was singing “Happy birthday” until I turned the video camera on. (Of course.)

Today, we went to a book sale at the library and came home with a box full of books and a good deal on the HBO World War II series DVD of “The Pacific.”

One of the best things about birthdays in the Bartelt family is getting to choose all your meals for the day and having someone else prepare them. At least, it’s the best for me. Even though I like to cook, I appreciate a break now and then.

We started the day with these yummy yogurt parfaits and eggs Benedict. The kids were happy to help with the fruit and granola.

Pay no attention to the girl licking her fingers while dishing out the yogurt. It was a mess and it was totally worth it. We may not be too many years from the kids making breakfast. I offered to let Isabelle make me coffee but she wasn’t interested. She’s watched me do it enough times, she probably could.

These were the things that made me smile most this week, in addition to my husband finishing his seminary coursework. We’re one week from graduation. (Can you guess what I’ll be smiling about next week?)

Here are a few more smile moments from the week, in picture form.

Both kids got new bike helmets this week, Isabelle because she needed one and Corban because he may not necessarily need it yet but he likes to do what his sister does. He loved the helmet so much, he wore it around the house. Reading can be dangerous, I guess, so make sure you wear a helmet!

And the kids have taken a liking to marching with sticks. Phil and I agree: they remind us of Hobbits. I hope no one mistakes our house for an on-location filming of any Hobbit-related movies.

Thanks for reading! I hope your smiles are as big as the supermoon I’m seeing out my window right now!

It’s my birthday and I’ll give away a book if I want to!

Yep! I’m 29 again today, and I want to celebrate by giving away some free books. So every Friday in May, I’ll be posting a book you can win just by leaving comments, sharing with friends and tweeting your little hearts out.

To kick things off, I’m giving away a copy of The Doctor’s Lady by Jody Hedlund. I previously reviewed the book here, so check that out to see if you’re interested. Historical fiction. Romance. A great summer read, if you ask me. And if you like it, she’s got a new book coming out later this year.

Here’s what you have to do to win: Leave a comment on the blog (that’s right here) about the best birthday gift you ever received. For me, it’s this year: my husband is graduating from seminary!

For extra chances to win: share this giveaway on Facebook or Twitter (1 entry each), subscribe to the blog via e-mail (1 entry) or follow me on Twitter (1 entry). Leave a comment on the blog for each extra chance to win. I’ll pick a winner on Fridays and announce it with the next week’s free book offering. There’s a mix of fiction and non-fiction, so check back on Fridays to see what I’m giving away.

Free book Fridays during May — spread the word!

Anthem Thursday: Hallelujah chorus

My husband turned  in the last of his seminary work this week. A long four years comes to an end.

This seems the only appropriate response, and if I had the voice and this many friends, I would find a way to do this in the streets between our house and the seminary.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXh7JR9oKVE]

And I gotta send love to my cousin Abby who is graduating from college today. Hallelujah!

How to hear from God: review of Discerning the Voice of God by Priscilla Shirer

“How do you know it’s God speaking?”

“How do I hear God’s voice?”

“Does God speak to people today?

I’ve heard these questions from friends and in Bible studies, and I’ve asked them myself. “How do I know it’s God and not me?” seems to be a question every Christian asks himself at least once on the journey.

So I was excited to find this book by Priscilla Shirer. Discerning the Voice of God offers practical advice for God-glorifying decision-making. Shirer takes a complex and sometimes confusing issue — “Is it God?” “Or me?” “Or the Enemy?” — and breaks it down into simple pieces. Will it bring glory to God? Is it consistent with His truth? Is it confirmed by external circumstances? Do you have a sense of peace, even if the decision is challenging? These “tests” make hearing from God accessible to all believers, not just a chosen few.

Discerning the Voice of God was my introduction to Shirer’s writing and teaching, and I have to say, I want to read more. She speaks from the heart with conviction and confidence. Her teaching is to the point and simple, bringing clarity not creating confusion. Her passion for the Lord and His truth comes through in her writing.

My family is facing some major life decisions and I’ve found Discerning the Voice of God to be a trustworthy guide through the process.

FAVORITES: Shirer uses personal examples and common experiences to illustrate her points. I connected with her like I would sharing a cup of coffee with a girlfriend. Her insights make hearing from God less intimidating.

FAULTS: A couple of Scriptures seemed stretched to fit her point when looked at in context. However, I haven’t studied those Scriptures in depth nor did I look up the original language. Those rare instances didn’t detract from the overall message.

IN A WORD: Understandable. Shirer speaks to new Christians and seasoned saints alike. She doesn’t just say, “listen for the still small voice” in answer to the “how do I hear from God?” question. She tells you what that looks like and sounds like and how she’s experienced it in her life. This book is a great resource.

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WANT YOUR OWN COPY? In exchange for my review, I received a free copy of Discerning the Voice of God from Moody Publishers. I’ve underlined, starred and circled in my copy, but lucky for you, I received a bonus copy of the book in the mail. I’d love for one of you to have it! Leave a comment on the blog about why you want to know how to hear from God, and I’ll pick a winner next Wednesday, May 9 and post the winner’s name on next week’s book review post. Want extra chances to win? Of course you do! Share this giveaway with your Facebook friends or Tweet it (1 extra entry each), subscribe to this blog via e-mail (1 extra entry) or follow me on Twitter (1 extra entry), and leave ANOTHER comment her on the blog about it. Confusing? Just spread the word and come back here and tell me what you did!

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! If you like FREE books (and who doesn’t?) check back here on Friday for an announcement about more books I’m giving away during the month of May.

How writing makes me a better person

Eight minutes changed my whole day.

Between grocery shopping and preparing lunch for the kids, I had squeezed in a phone interview for an article I’m writing. Phone interviews were a daily part of the job when I worked for newspapers, but since I’ve been a stay-at-home mom and sometimes-freelance writer, they’ve been rarer. Because predicting a time of day when the kids might offer me a few minutes of uninterrupted time to speak to another adult in a semi-professional capacity is about the same as picking winning lottery numbers. In this particular circumstance, I took a chance (and my husband was home and available to referee briefly as needed) and it paid off.

After I ended the call, I eagerly and willingly put the rest of the groceries away and engaged the kids in reading and play time before we sat down to lunch.

Maybe that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but for me, wanting to play with my kids doesn’t come easy. See, I’m a task person. I see a job that needs doing, and I do it. (Unless it’s washing dishes and then I ignore it for as long as possible.) I need activities to have purpose. Sometimes playing Barbies or taking a walk around the block at a snail’s pace seems pointless to me. And don’t get me started on seek-and-find books, which are my daughter’s absolute favorite right now.

Measuring productivity as a mom is hard. I know that playing with my kids, reading to them, taking walks and the like are all part of their development and do have purpose. It’s just that I can’t always see it. Which is why I often choose housework or errands over straight-out playtime.

Here’s what I’m learning, though. I was called to be a writer before God gave me children. I know that some moms feel called to their role. I’m not sure that I do. So when I have the chance to exercise my calling — a phone interview, writing an article, attending writers group, leading Bible study — I become a better wife and mom. Those things fill my tank and restore my sense of purpose. Being a mom is important work, and I know that. However, there’s more to me than my mom-ness.

While my husband’s been in seminary, he’s had one night class almost every semester. I’ve taken those nights as my writing/creative nights. Looking forward to that time helps me get through the cleaning, the picking up toys, the breaking up fights that encompass the rest of my day.

For me, writing is a need. When I don’t do it, I suffer and so does my family.

I learned in Sunday School this week (via video teaching from John Ortberg and Dallas Willard in The Divine Conspiracy) that one of the best things you can do for the people around you is to take care of yourself. Writing is part of my self-care plan.

For you, it might be something different. Art. Youth group. Talking with a friend regularly. Volunteer work.

How does [fill in the blank] make you a better person?

Saturday Smiles: World Peace edition

I know almost nothing about current events and/or sports except the snippets I catch from my husband’s ESPN viewing habit. So I have NO clue why some guy, whose name is World Peace, is in trouble for some kind of physical altercation on the basketball court. But the irony is so funny, as are the many tweets and Facebook statuses I’ve seen about it.

That’s something to smile about. Unintentional humor gets me every time.

We had our own “world peace” funny in the house this week. While playing this game, Isabelle decided the faces needed friends not matches. So she set down United States boy and picked up the Afghanistan girl and said, “There. They can be friends.” I have no idea how this translates to foreign policy, but maybe we need to get the U.N. to play this game and give everyone a friend. Later she matched India with Iran and said they could be friends. There was a lot of boy-girl matching going on, so if the foreign policy gig doesn’t work out for her, she can always run a dating service.

She is the source of many smiles this week.

Like when she pretends to be a cat.

And finishes her first-ever soccer clinic, complete with end-of-session medal.

One afternoon, I was lying on the couch because I could not keep my eyes open any longer. (Tell me you’ve been there!) She comes right up to my face … or should I say, she backs up to my face, pauses then walks away. I asked her why she did that. “I tooted on you. It was a BIG toot.” My husband, who was supposed to be working on a paper, busted out laughing. Trust me when I say, she is his child. This is learned behavior from a Dad who often shows his affection in dad-like ways, like tooting in their general direction. What was funny to me was how funny he thought it was.

I’d never considered that teaching your kids about Jesus could have unexpected side effects. Isabelle was singing to her brother out of the hymnal (she can’t read it yet) and her song went something like this: “He makes us happy when we sing. He makes us happy. He makes our ants die, die, die forever. They die forever.” Our kitchen is currently under attack by ants and I’ve launched a counter-attack in ant traps. Isabelle has been fascinated by the illustrations on the back of the packaging that show ants dying. Stay with me; I’ll get back to Jesus. Later, she and Corban were playing with a Little People ambulance and an Ariel doll (Barbie sized). Ariel was sick, or as Isabelle said, “She died forever.” Izzy carried her to the play kitchen oven and put her in because it was “a dark lonely place.” I assume this is her interpretation of Good Friday and not something altogether sick and twisted. Let’s go with Good Friday.

I’m amassing a collection of photos for which my son will hate me when he’s a teenager. Here’s the newest addition.

Here’s a more respectable one for him. He was jealous of the Izzy-as-cat picture at the time.

He looks innocent, but he gave us a “first” this week. We’d been to storytime at the library, where he and his sister had made ladybugs, and somewhere along the way, his ladybug lost an eye. By the time we sat down to lunch, it had lost both eyes. Corban’s had a bit of the sniffles lately, so we’ve been blowing his nose a lot. Just before lunch, Phil had Corban on the couch blowing his nose when I heard Phil exclaim, “Corban Ranard!” Wondering what warranted such a reaction, I rushed to the living room to find my husband holding one of the googly eyes from the ladybug. It had come out of Corban’s nose on one of the blows. I don’t remember Isabelle ever sticking anything up her nose. I think we’re in for a treat with this one.

Two workouts in this week plus a chance to get out of the house on a nice-ish sunny day in the middle of the week. The rest of the week was surrounded by cold, gloomy, rain-type days.

My husband’s senior banquet … a date night equivalent. We dressed up. I didn’t have to cook. Someone else watched the kids. The celebrations begin.

Three papers stand between my husband and graduation. Last week it was seven papers/assignments. One step at a time.

Happy Saturday!

Anthem Thursday: Oh My God

I came home one night and my husband was listening to a Jars of Clay album on Spotify. This song is on it, and it’s one of my favorites because it helps me express what I feel about suffering and injustice.

“Oh My God” is such an overused phrase these days, especially when shortened to OMG. There are valid times to say “Oh My God.” The song gives us plenty of examples.

Enough from me.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txqeyisb688]

Epic road trip: review of Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus by Joyce Magnin

A bet between a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law can’t end well, right?

Rest assured, it’s not as bad as it might sound. In fact, it’s better. It’s the premise for Joyce Magnin’s latest novel, Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus.

When Harriet Beamer, a 70-something widow, falls off a chair while hanging ornaments on the Christmas tree, her son and daughter-in-law decide it’s time she move from her home in suburban Philadelphia to their home in California. The catch is: she only has to move if her ankle is broken. Harriet, never one to turn down a bet, agrees. When the X-ray comes back showing she’s broken her ankle, Harriet has no choice but to keep her end of the bet. She packs up her salt-and-pepper shaker collection and puts her basset hound, Humphrey, on a plane. Realizing she’s never been anywhere, she decides not to get on the plane with her beloved canine. She’s going to move to California, but she’s going to see some sights along the way.

What follows is Harriet’s bold, outrageous and sometimes frightening journey across the United States on public transportation, with a few alternate means. Her trip is nowhere near a straight shot from east to west, which is how she intends it.

I’ve been a fan of Magnin’s books for about a year. (Read my reviews of a couple of her other books here.) She weaves a tale that is remarkable and inspiring with characters who feel like old friends. Magnin has a knack for creating outrageously believable scenarios and is a master of imagery. A person Harriet meets doesn’t just have wrinkles. He has more wrinkles than the prunes Harriet ate for breakfast. The book is brimming with clear pictures of people and places. What a treat.

FAVORITES: In the midst of Harriet’s travels are nuggets of wisdom that hit you almost out of the blue. Harriet is on a physical journey and a spiritual journey.  What she learns spoke to me in the midst of a journey of unknown destination in my own life.

FAULTS: If there is any fault at all, it’s that Harriet  Beamer may not appeal to a younger generation because of her age. Although with the popularity of Betty White and her friends on television, there is hope. And I do hope that readers of all ages pick up this book, or download it, because just like our grandparents’ generation, Harriet Beamer has something to teach us all.

IN A WORD: Vicarious. Reading Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus makes me want to travel and do unexpectedly courageous things. Now. Not when I’m 70. I even marked a couple of places in the book to look up later as possible travel destinations.

Harriet’s journey continues on her blog. Yes, that’s right. Harriet Beamer has her own blog. You can follow her ongoing adventures here. I’m eager to catch up on her travels.

Side note: If you’ve got a Kindle, Magnin’s first book in the Bright’s Pond series, The Prayers of Agnes Sparrow, is free (as of Tuesday night). Check it out here.

About the Author

Joyce Magnin is the author of five novels, including the popular and quirky Bright’s Pond series and the middle grade novel “Carrying Mason.” She is a writing instructor and frequent conference speaker. Joyce lives in Pennsylvania with her son, Adam, and their crazy cat, Mango, who likes to eat nachos.

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In exchange for this review, I received a free advanced digital copy of the book from Zondervan.

Grace changes everything

I am a judgment junkie.

Maybe that just means I’m human. Sometimes, I can’t help myself. I see someone dressed a certain way, or behaving a certain way, and I come to a conclusion based on almost no information.

That sort of thing would have gotten me fired in the newspaper business. Snap judgments, incomplete stories, speculations … that’s the stuff of tabloids and, too often, television. Facts and truth — these are the things on which I built my journalism career.

I read this quote recently, from a book I’ll review later on this blog. The author wrote it in the context of suffering and the meaning of suffering, but I think it applies in daily life as well.

Given our extremely limited perspective, it is premature to leap from “I can’t see the reason” to “There is no reason.” We cannot condemn what we don’t fully understand. (Godforsaken by Dinesh D’Souza)

How did it come to this? How can I so easily dismiss people as less worthy or less talented or less intelligent or less anything than me? What, after all, makes me so special?

The answer is:  nothing.

This occurred to me as the kids and I were walking home from church last week. We’d had a potluck, so in addition to our usual baggage, we were toting the food leftovers. Actually, the kids, who had just eaten a FULL lunch, were eating tortilla chips straight from the bag as we moseyed the three blocks home. I think our son ate half a bag. I was half-horrified at what people passing by would think and half-uncaring because I’d been sick for a week and didn’t have the energy for a fight.

Weeks earlier, I had mentally shamed a mother who allowed her son to eat lunch meat straight from the bag while in line at the grocery store deli counter.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to walk in her shoes while my son left a trail of tortilla crumbs on our street.

Grace changes everything.

Before I was a mom, I thought if your kid left the house with a dirty face, then you must be a poor mother. Or if you let your kid eat candy more than once a day, you weren’t trying hard enough. Or if you yelled at your kids in public, you were probably abusive. Or if you were on food stamps or WIC, you were irresponsible, lazy and/or uneducated.

Grace changes everything.

God has graciously given me the opportunity to walk paths I never would have chosen for myself. As a result, I’ve received more grace than I knew was available. And I’ve given more grace than I knew I could give.

Grace is a work in progress in my life, both in the giving and the receiving.

I have much to learn.

I don’t think it’s enough to look at someone in circumstances different from ours and say “But for the grace of God go I.” Because God’s grace is available to them as well. I need it daily. They need it, too.

Grace changes everything.

Most importantly, it changes me.

How has grace changed you?