Because everyone loves a good story
Two Poems for Good Friday and Easter
This year, in lieu of posting my own poems, I wanted to share with you some beautiful gems by two of my favorite poets. I hope these verses draw your thoughts first to the cross and then to the empty tomb!
“Spit in my Face” by John Donne
This poem was written in the early 1600’s, around the same time Shakespeare was writing. That’s why you’ll notice some antiquated spelling and diction. But in spite of that (or because of it) the poem is well worth a Good Friday meditation.
Donne acknowledges that his daily sin is an affront to the sinless savior and knows that Donne himself deserves the hateful treatment Jesus suffered at the hands of the Jews. He marvels at the juxtaposition between man’s willful sin and Christ’s willing suffering. Instead of simply excusing sin with a pardon, this King chose rather to pay the price himself. He took on flesh not for selfish gain but to suffer in salvation. Hallelujah, what a savior!
Spit in my Face
Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee,
For I have sinn’d, and sinn’d, and onely hee,
Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sinnes, which passe the Jewes impiety:
They kill’d once an inglorious man, but I
Crucifie him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came cloth’d in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainfull intent:
God cloth’d himselfe in vile mans flesh, that so
Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe.
“Easter” by Gerard Manley Hopkins
After dwelling on the cross, turn your eyes to the empty tomb! Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote during the mid-1800’s, and while his spelling is more modern, this poem is full of biblical allusions.
The poem points to the whole earth’s celebration of Jesus’ resurrection. The first stanza alludes to Matthew 26, where Mary of Bethany anoints Jesus with costly perfume. The joyous reality of Easter demands an extravagant celebration! Stanza two paints Jesus as the groom at a joyful wedding celebration in heaven, and the third stanza shows nature herself reflecting the joy of resurrection in springtime.
Hopkins was a Jesuit priest, and in stanza four he encourages his fellow priests to trade their Lenten suffering for Easter’s glad renewal. The final stanza ends with a beautiful challenge: to “make each morn an Easter day.” He is risen! He is risen indeed!
Easter
Break the box and shed the nard;
Stop not now to count the cost;
Hither bring pearl, opal, sard;
Reck not what the poor have lost;
Upon Christ throw all away:
Know ye, this is Easter Day.
Build His church and deck His shrine,
Empty though it be on earth;
Ye have kept your choicest wine—
Let it flow for heavenly mirth;
Pluck the harp and breathe the horn:
Know ye not ’tis Easter morn?
Gather gladness from the skies;
Take a lesson from the ground;
Flowers do ope their heavenward eyes
And a Spring-time joy have found;
Earth throws Winter’s robes away,
Decks herself for Easter Day.
Beauty now for ashes wear,
Perfumes for the garb of woe,
Chaplets for dishevelled hair,
Dances for sad footsteps slow;
Open wide your hearts that they
Let in joy this Easter Day.
Seek God’s house in happy throng;
Crowded let His table be;
Mingle praises, prayer, and song,
Singing to the Trinity.
Henceforth let your souls alway
Make each morn an Easter Day.
Is Parenting a Waste?
Remember when I discovered The Literary Life podcast and it filled me with joy and longing? I’m joyful when I hear sharp minds discussing books I love, but I long to use my mind like that again on a regular basis. Instead, I’m making dinner, wiping noses, and pretending my brain isn’t just a bowl of cold oatmeal.
This led me to mourn the seeming exclusivity of life trajectories. If I choose A, I thereby forego B. As a totally hypothetical example, if I choose to be a wife and homeschool mama who does some editing on the side, I choose not to be a single reader, writer, and teacher. I can add a dash of the latter to a vat of the former, but it will be just enough to give a whiff of what once was.
The Lies of Self Entitlement
Most of the time, that’s totally fine with me because I’m too pooped out and preoccupied to give a rip these days. But sometimes I find myself buying into this fairly-modern, fairly-first-world belief that I should be able to have it all at the same time—that I deserve to have it all. This lie steals sanity and peace.
Is it impossible to do both—to be a great wife and mother while still spending maximum brain power on the things I enjoy? No, it’s not impossible. Has it been done before? Definitely, and with great success, I’m sure. But I’ll tell you right now, that hasn’t been my experience in my illustrious, five-year career as a mother.
The Road Not Taken
So yes, I admit that there are times when my former life rears its gorgeous head and beckons me with its siren call. “Emily,” it croons, “think of all the books you could have read by now. Think of the amazing things you could have written.” Of course I tie myself to the mast and sail on, but I can hear them screeching behind me, “You blew it big time, you sucker!”
But rather than wallowing, this is the perfect opportunity to remind myself of something amazing: while the world may call my choices a waste, Jesus calls them beautiful.
Mary’s Commendations
To be clear, it’s not just motherhood that’s beautiful; it’s a life of grateful obedience and worship. A life spent in pursuit of Jesus and his kingdom is never wasted. God comforted me with this reminder the other day when I was reading through Matthew 26. Here we see Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus, being commended by Jesus—again. The first time was when she chose to sit at his feet and simply listen. He said she’d chosen the best way to spend her time.
Later on, we see Jesus commending Mary again. In Matthew 26, while Jesus is reclining at the dinner table, Mary breaks open her jar of costly perfume, pours it on Jesus’ feet, and wipes him clean with her hair. Almost everyone is outraged—even the disciples. They consider her actions a waste, and they tell her so.
But do you know who doesn’t consider it a waste? Jesus. In fact, he calls it beautiful. Her gift is beautiful because it’s offered selflessly with a heart of gratitude. Her actions embody grateful obedience and worship, even if Jesus is the only one to understand it.
A Deeper Understanding
Mary chose to show lavish love instead of shrewd self-preservation. This love isn’t at odds with wisdom; it’s the outpouring of wisdom. When Mary spends a year’s wages on a single display of devotion to Jesus, she’s showing more understanding than all of the men who’ve been traveling with Jesus for the past three years. “In pouring this ointment on my body, she has done it to prepare me for burial,” Jesus says in verse 12.
Within a week, Jesus would be hanging on a cross, and yet Mary seems to be the only one in the room who understands that. This knowledge drives her to spend her most precious treasure on Jesus because she believes he is worth it. When she had been sitting at his feet, maybe she’d heard him say, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” So when she chooses grateful obedience and worship, the disciples call it waste, but Jesus calls it beautiful.
A Society of Narcissists
Today, I think most of society would fall into the disciples’ mindset. “Don’t waste yourself and your gifts. Love yourself. Chase your dreams. You deserve it.” We’re inundated with advice to prioritize self-care, distance ourselves from toxic influences, cut ourselves off from negative energy, and do what makes us feel good.
Friends, there’s a place for taking care of ourselves, but these obsessions can amount to shrewd self-preservation. And, when we find that it’s not practical to put ourselves first all the time, these expectations can lead to bitterness and resentment. But when our lives display grateful obedience and worship, God takes care of us as he promises to do countless times throughout scripture. We don’t have to “look out for ourselves” because our Maker is already on the job.
The Best Defense
One more encouraging aspect of this story is that Mary didn’t defend herself. She didn’t have to—Jesus defended her. In the three gospel accounts of this story, Mary never says a word. She wasn’t anointing Jesus to win the approval of the disciples; she was doing it to show selfless gratitude to her Lord, and he recognized her gift for what it was.
There will be no end to the opinions of others. Some people are so certain they know what you should have done with your life. You will never please everyone, but the good news is that you don’t have to. There’s only One whom it matters if you please. If our lives of grateful obedience are beautiful to Jesus, then it’s enough.
Comfort and Joy
So there you have it. Those are the thoughts that have been rolling around in my head as I contemplate my past, present, and future. I realize it makes me sound like a horribly reluctant mom (which I promise I’m not—at least most of the time), but I’m sharing it anyway because I don’t think I’m alone in these feelings. This stage of life may not always fit my ideal of what it could or should be, but there’s peace in knowing that I’m right where God wants me.
It’s comforting to know that I don’t have to plan out my whole life. If I’m seeking to learn at the feet of Jesus, his love and his worth will motivate me to live a life of grateful obedience and worship even in the midst of what may sometimes feel like a waste. With God’s help, I can start thinking about myself less often and start loving my family with a grateful heart. When I make tiny strides in this direction, Jesus calls it beautiful.
Beautiful Obedience
And thankfully, there are seasons of life. I may occasionally mourn parts of the life I left behind, but it may not be gone forever. Passions are perennial. When my brain is less cluttered with the minutia of family life, the seeds of who I once was may have space to bloom again. Until then, I can make small decisions to water them periodically, remembering that good things are ahead, and good things are right now, too. May God help me find joy in the beautiful obedience of today.
A New Podcast and a Plate of Pasta
Attention, literature nerds! I recently discovered a new-to-me literary podcast, and it’s as bookish as they come. It has over 200 episodes already, so I’ll never have to sit around waiting for a new one to drop.
I’m currently listening to their series on one of my favorite novels, C.S. Lewis’s Til We Have Faces, and I’m burning through it. It’s been so fun to listen to sharp minds talk about a book I’ve loved for years but haven’t heard much discussion about. And because there are so many episodes, I can have this experience again and again! Woohoo!
A Prodigious List
Are you dying to know what the podcast called? All right, I’ll tell you: it’s called The Literary Life Podcast, with Angelina Stanford, Thomas Banks, and Cindy Rollins. I was so excited to see that their list of discussed authors includes many that I know and love—and plenty more that I neither know nor love but hope to in the future.
They’ve discussed writers from George MacDonald, Dorothy Sayers, G.K. Chesterton, J.R.R. Tolkien, and C.S. Lewis to Shakespeare, Euripides, Aristotle, and Plato. There’s also a handsome smattering of other works in between—George Orwell, Ray Bradbury, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe, Jane Austen, and so many more! Doesn’t it just make your mouth water to read the authors on that list? Or are you normal?
The Great Conversation
Another fun part of the podcast is their premise that great works of literature are all connected in a conversation across the ages. Stanford always says, “The books are talking to each other.” This idea isn’t unique to her; it’s actually a major premise of the Classical Conversations approach to education and other thinkers as well. But the more books you read, the more you realize how great minds in the distant past have influenced great minds in the more recent past who are, in turn, still influencing great minds today. It’s a long, beautiful, ongoing conversation.
So as the hosts are discussing one work of literature, they’re weaving in threads from countless other works. “This theme reminds me of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” “Remember when we discussed this same idea in The Wind in the Willows?” “This character is facing the same struggle as the Greek goddess Aphrodite.” Some of their allusions are familiar to me, and many call up memories that are rusty, dusty, or nonexistent. It’s exciting and intimidating all at the same time. But, to misquote Hwin from The Horse and His Boy, “I’d sooner be intimidated by you than bored by anyone else.”
From Contentment to Envy in 2.6 Seconds
And now, for the downside of the podcast.
You know that feeling when you go out to eat with someone, and you each order a different meal? You read carefully through the menu. Your eyes linger long over the filet with a baked potato, but in the end you opt for creamy pasta with smoked chicken. It sounds great, and you know you’ll love it. When the food comes, you’re thrilled. You take several bites of your pasta, and it’s delicious. It’s exactly what you wanted. In fact, it’s perfect.
Until you look up and notice that your friend ordered the filet.
She’s cutting into that beautiful hunk of meat, the steak yielding like soft butter, its red center drawing your appetite like a bull toward the matador. You clench your teeth and swallow a lump of chicken. You look down at your plate. The linguini stares back at you, lounging insipidly in its sauce. Pasta? Pasta is for losers. Why didn’t you get the stake like a sensible person? You wanted it. You could have had it. But you blew it, and now you’ll be eating these blasted noodles for the rest of the week.
The Grass Is Always Greener
…What was I talking about? Oh, yes, the podcast. Well, in some ways, it feels like that to me. A decade ago, I was given a menu with two main choices: continue as a single teacher of literature who can use all her free time in the summer to read, write, and study to her heart’s content, or else get married and pour her heart into raising a beautiful family. They’re both great options. I had an appetite for both, but I could order only one. So I chose the family. And let me tell you, the pasta is really good.
But sometimes I glance over at other people’s plates and see them cutting into that filet. Then, for a brief moment of insanity, I wonder if the pasta is really as good as I’d expected it to be after all. I wonder how my meal would be going if I’d ordered the steak. Would it taste better? Would it be more satisfying? Did I make the right choice?
Trading Plates
Now, to be honest, I never actually want to trade meals. I don’t want to get rid of the pasta; I just want to add the steak. I want to pour myself into loving and serving my family with young children, and I also want to use my brain like I used to. And I’ll freely admit that I have more of these moments of envy when I’m surrounded by a toy tornado, drowning in housework, listening to one child scream from a minor injury while standing in a cloud of stench, wiping the dirty bottom of the other child. At times like that, the steak sounds pretty good.
But you know what? If I’d chosen to stay single, I bet I’d be looking at happy couples with beautiful kids just like mine and wondering if I’d missed out. Because that’s how humans are—we’re so quick to default to envy and doubt and so slow to choose gratitude and peace. Trust me, I’m the world’s leading expert on this problem.
Later Doesn’t Mean Never
But despite all this—the good, bad, and ugly—I haven’t lost hope. I can still enjoy the podcast, even if the green monster raises its ugly head in my heart once in a while. I can still rejoice that God has given me a wonderful family to spend these years with, even if my mental capacity tapers off to a trickle for a while. I can be thankful for this delicious pasta, trusting that I’ll be able to order steak later on.
And even better than that is the fact that Jesus looks at a life of selfless obedience and calls it beautiful. This is the big idea that I want to unpack with you next time. I’ve been so encouraged as I meditate on this truth, and I hope you will be, too. For now, I’m off to enjoy my new podcast with a big ol’ bowl of noodles. Until then, no matter what’s on your plate, bon appetit!
Coming of Age: Death in The Yearling
The death of a beloved pet is never easy, especially for children. They may want to have a small funeral in the back yard. They’ll probably make a little cross out of sticks to mark the grave. They’ll cry and wonder why this happened. I remember all this from experience, and you probably do too.
But what if it was more than just a pet; what if it was the child’s only true friend? And what if the child didn’t merely discover that the pet had died but was forced to kill it himself in a horrific way? This child would come face-to-face with reality in a way that few others will experience for years to come, if ever. The coming-of-age process would be thrust upon him, and there would be no going back.
This is the story of Jody Baxter.
A Contrast of Experiences
Last time we looked at how death affects the children in Peter Pan. The story is carefully crafted to preserve Peter’s naiveté and innocence—after all, he’s the boy who never grows up. But the other children all choose to grow up, and part of that is their experiences of death. Even while characters like Hook and Mrs. Darling die in the story, things are still fairly lighthearted, albeit poignant and nostalgic.
But death in The Yearling is approached from a completely different angle. Both stories hold the premise that certain events can’t help but speed the coming-of-age process. However, while Peter Pan intentionally spares its characters from most of those realities, The Yearling takes Jody Baxter right to the heart of them. Let’s see how the various kinds of death in The Yearling cause Jody to grow from a boy into a yearling.
Jody’s Familiarity with Death
A polar opposite of Neverland, Baxter Island is a rural Florida farm that sees all kinds of death on a regular basis. Jody’s family raises animals to slaughter and eat. Pa hunts for food, guts it, and hangs the meat in plain sight. Animals kill each other out of hunger or pure meanness, and natural disasters wipe critters out by the hundreds.
Even the crops provide a reminder of death when a flood destroys nearly everything the Baxters had been growing. Jody Baxter is daily faced with death constantly. But as the story progresses, not even this familiarity with death can prepare him for some of the great losses he will experience.
Relational Deaths in The Yearling
Jody is closer and more affectionate with Grandma Hutto than he is with his own mother. While Grandma Hutto not actually his grandmother, she is a comfort and an inspiration to him. Her son, Oliver, is the closest thing Jody has to a brother. That’s why the intrusion of unfaithful Twink Weatherby, Oliver’s gal, is the beginning of the end for Jody’s close relationship with the Huttos. When the Huttos eventually leave town and Jody watches them sail away, he thinks about how their fading from view is like watching them die.
Before moving away, Oliver gets into a fight with the Forresters over Twink, and Jody and his Pa are forced to get involved to save Oliver’s life. This puts Pa at odds with the Forresters, who are his only neighbors. The Baxters had enjoyed a tense peace with the Forresters up until this point, but now they have to watch their backs. Even worse for Jody, his only friend, Fodderwing, is a Forrester, and now Jody can’t spend time with him like he used to.
But the most heartbreaking relational death is between Jody and Pa. When Pa resignedly gives the order to shoot Jody’s yearling, Jody’s unwavering trust in and love for his Pa are destroyed. Bitter and spiteful, Jody runs away from home. Pa’s betrayal had broken his heart. It was quite a while before Jody came around to considering Pa’s side of the issue, but even then their relationship never returned to the blind worship that it had been before the incident.
Physical Deaths in The Yearling
As we mentioned, Jody is pretty familiar with death because of the harsh realities of farm life. But the first death that actually breaks Jody’s heart is the death of his friend Fodderwing. Fodderwing is a kind boy and is Jody’s only real friend. He is born slow-witted, though, and his body must have been weaker than most. He succumbs to a sickness with almost no warning. Jody is blindsided — his only friend, ripped unexpectedly from his life. He never quite recovers from this brutal reality.
But the most devastating death is the death of Flag, his beloved pet deer. Flag wasn’t just a normal pet to Jody; it was his only remaining friend, a symbol of his growing responsibility and the trust his parents had in him as he took care of it. It was his companion, his baby, his best friend. So when Flag becomes an unmanageable threat to the Baxters’ winter food supply, Pa eventually makes the decision that Flag must be shot.
Jody flat out refuses to do the deed himself, so Ma takes the initiative while Jody isn’t looking. The horrific details are a crimson gash at the end of the story. Ma’s shot injures but fails to kill Flag. Jody is forced to finish the deed himself, taking the life of his beloved friend at the same pool where he had previously experienced such delight and innocence at the creation of his little water wheel. When he comes to his senses days later, he is no longer Jody the child; he is Jody the yearling.
The Monster, Death
Death is terrible. There’s no way around that fact. But it does play a role in the inevitable progress from childhood toward maturity. While Peter Pan seems to get a pass, allowing him to stay young and innocent forever, Jody Baxter comes face-to-face with the monster, death. It doesn’t kill Jody, but it devours his naiveté. Jody is never the same boy again.
While death is the worst way to experience coming of age, it’s not the only factor. We’ve already looked at the role that first love plays, and next time we’ll see how family plays a vital role in the journey from childhood to maturity. See you then!
Coming of Age: Death in Peter Pan
A broken bird. An old dog. A beloved grandparent. A child’s first experience with death may not affect them in the same way it would an adult, but it will certainly draw them from innocence toward reality.
In coming-of-age stories and in life, three factors play a major role: first love, death, and family. We looked at first love last time as Peter Pan remained oblivious to Wendy’s crush and as Jody Baxter felt both disgust and possessiveness toward Eulalie Boyles. First love can be complicated, but at least it’s usually lighthearted.
But today’s topic is a harsh reality—probably the harshest in the human experience. When children first encounter death, it leaves an indelible mark on their hearts. It makes them start to wonder about things they’d never thought of before. Why did they die? Where did they go? Who else is going to die? Peter Pan and The Yearling deal with death in different ways, so let’s see how the experiences drew the characters toward maturity. Today we’ll take time to look at Peter Pan, and we’ll delve into The Yearling next time.
Peter’s Discomfort with Death
You know Peter Pan as the boy who won’t grow up. He flat-out refuses to accept aging and change, and this includes a refusal to accept death—well, certain kinds of death. Many little boys are obsessed with war and fighting, and Peter is no exception. He fights pirates and Indians and anyone else who gets in his way. The book makes it clear that he kills his enemies all the time. Bloody slaughter in battle doesn’t seem to bother Peter in the least.
But the death of people he cares about is too hard to process. Instead, he has to deny and avoid. When Tootles shoots Wendy out of the sky, Peter sees her lying on the ground and thinks she’s dead. Like any child, he doesn’t know how to react.
“‘She is dead,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘Perhaps she is frightened at being dead.’ He thought of hopping off in a comic sort of way till he was out of sight of her, and then never going near the spot any more.”
Thankfully Wendy is not dead, so Peter is spared the decision of what to do. That kind of death is never supposed to enter Neverland.
Relational Deaths in Peter Pan
As hard as it is for children to process physical deaths, relational deaths take their toll on naiveté too. In Peter Pan, J.M. Barry says that all children are “gay and innocent and heartless.” This includes Peter and his firm belief that Hook will choose to be as noble and fair in a fight as Peter is.
Once when Hook and Peter are fighting, Hook falls down, giving Peter an advantage. Instead of seizing the chance to kill Hook, Peter reaches down to give him a hand up; Peter wants to win the fight fairly. His natural “good form” has always nettled Hook, and rather than taking Peter’s hand, the foul captain bites it instead. This shocking mistreatment and disregard for all things fair is a startling revelation to Peter.
“[As Peter reached down,] Hook bit him. Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly…. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter.”
But the greatest relational death in Peter Pan is when Wendy and the boys grow up. Even as an adult, Wendy doesn’t forget about Neverland, but Peter forgets about Wendy. Instead of bringing her back to visit Neverland each spring as he had promised, Peter fails to come for her until she’s grown and has a little girl of her own. Wendy is too mature to cry about it anymore, although she had been heartbroken when she was younger. Peter is upset that Wendy betrayed him by growing up, but soon he settles on bringing Wendy’s daughter to visit instead. So the cycle continues.
Physical Deaths in Peter Pan
Apart from the carnage of war, there are only a few deaths mentioned in Peter Pan. The one that causes the smallest stir is the eventual death of Mrs. Darling. Her mysterious beauty and selfless love had been such a focal point at the beginning of the book, but when her children are grown and Mrs. Darling passes away, she is immediately “dead and forgotten.” It’s just another proof of their continued heartlessness. Maybe this is because they’re already mature; the death doesn’t pose a loss of innocence.
The death of Captain James Hook, far from bringing Peter to grips with reality, actually cements his refusal to mature. Hook is a constant reminder of age, and Peter doesn’t want to face those facts. The whole construct of Neverland is an eternal, ageless, changeless realm. So when the ticking crocodile – time itself – finally devours old Hook, Peter rejoices. In his heart, Peter knows that aging brings maturity, and he won’t tolerate such a thing in Neverland. After Hook’s death, the ticking croc slips away, and Peter can put the passing of time out of his mind again.
Deliberately Softened
The way that Peter Pan deals with death is considerably softened from our reality. It’s a children’s book and therefore has compassion on its young readers. The absence the deep wounds that death brings is itself part of the theme. The same can’t be said of The Yearling, as we’ll see next week. Be sure to check it out!
‘Tis the Season for Sourdough and Shortbread
Well, it’s Christmas time once again, and I’m up to my eyeballs in holiday cheer. I’m at maximum capacity—buying presents, attending celebrations, planning trips, wrapping gifts, and taking on two totally new and time-consuming kitchen responsibilities.
…Wait, what? Yes, I’m afraid it’s true. In the midst of the holiday hectics, I’ve chosen to foray into the world of fermentation by creating homemade sourdough and kombucha. But I’ve also discovered a simple, scrumptious shortbread thumbprint cookie recipe you won’t want to miss, so please read on!
Learning by Doing
If you’ve already become a sourdough pro, I congratulate you and envy you. I am still a greenhorn, and it shows in the amount of time I’ve poured into watching tutorials, reading articles, and studying recipes. I’ve been quite thorough, I assure you, but I still have so many questions. For example, WHY did I choose to start this at Christmas time??
Thankfully, I have a friend who has made both kombucha and sourdough, and she was kind enough to invite me over, share her resources, and demonstrate her methods. No matter how many videos I watch on YouTube, nothing beats a real, guided, hands-on experience from someone who’s done it before. She even sent me home with the dough we prepared so I could bake it the next day!
My (Current) Favorite Resources
For sourdough, she pointed me in the direction of Baker Bettie, and that has been my favorite resource so far. Bettie is thorough, detailed, and talented. Plus, she provides extensive articles, recipes, and videos. It helps me to see visual snippets of what the dough should look like at certain stages—that way I know when to relax and when to begin panicking.
For kombucha, I found a website called You Brew Kombucha. The girl on there is also thorough in her videos and articles. She cross-links her articles to all kinds of other tips and information on her site, which helped me find answers to questions I didn’t know I should be asking (like why shouldn’t I refrigerate my SCOBY and why is vinegar a poor substitute for starter tea. Also, like, what IS starter tea?).
My (Current) Favorite Recipes
So despite my Christmas schedule and despite the fact that I already spend hours in the kitchen each week just making meals for my lovely family, I’ve now been spending a great many additional hours at the kitchen counter making bread dough and flavoring kombuchas. But I do believe it’s going to be worth it in the long run. They’re tasty, versatile, and beneficial, and I’m always up for some extra work that can boast such benefits.
So if I haven’t spooked you off with all my talk of time in the kitchen, please allow me to share with you the recipes that have worked well for me so far. I don’t think I’d suggest starting them before Christmas, but there’s always January! I’ve been loving Baker Bettie’s Basic Sourdough recipe. If you watch her accompanying video a few times and follow the instructions exactly, I think you’ll be really happy with the results. My bread has been tough on the outside, chewy on the inside, pleasantly-tart, and perfectly airy. I’ve also followed You Brew Kombucha’s instructions for fermenting the fizzy drink, and the results have been delicious. There are about a billion flavors to add to kombucha, so have fun experimenting with your favorites!
A (Simple!) Bonus Recipe
And if you are totally uninterested in spending hours upon hours fermenting your own food and drink, then I will cast absolutely no judgment upon you. In fact, I’ll offer you one last recipe that I found to be simple, fun, and irresistible: Baker Bettie’s thumbprint cookies. My 4-year-old son helped me make these a few days ago, and he really had a blast shaping the dough, squashing his thumb into it, and filling them with homemade cherry jam. And I have lost all self-restraint when it comes to these little gems. They just keep finding their way into my belly.
So whether you decide to start making sourdough, concocting kombucha, or baking cookies, I hope you’ll put these recipes to good use. I know I have, and despite being pretty busy, I regret nothing. Merry Christmas, my friends, and happy baking.
Ps: These are NOT affiliate links. I get nothing out of recommending these resources, so if you make them, feel free to send me some samples!
Happy Thanksgiving from Past Watchful Dragons
Today instead of leaving you with a lengthy article, I’ve decided to post pictures of some of my greatest blessings. I hope that God’s goodness fills your heart with thankfulness and peace today, whether you’re in a season of joy, grief, or somewhere in between.
“Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” Psalm 34:8
“I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD.” Psalm 27:13-14
Happy Thanksgiving, friends!
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