focused on Glory (beautiful puddles)

Week 35

Take a moment to stop by Ponderings of an Elect Exile to see Jennifer's double rainbow.

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The Problem With Being Ordinary

Earlier in the week, as I was getting dressed with the television on, I heard a news anchor comment on Prince Harry's "incident" in Las Vegas. If it is possible that someone hasn't heard about this story, I'll give a one bullet point summation.

• Prince Harry went to Vegas for a vacay, partied hard, ended up with nude pics of himself and a woman which made their way  to the internet and news.

Just to be clear, this post isn't about Harry. It's about the attitude I've seen/heard displayed regarding his "PR nightmare."

As I listened to the program coming from the TV, I heard the anchor talking about all the support that has been shown for Harry's discretion. He went on to say, more than once, that Harry was just a normal guy. He wasn't a bad person. It's perfectly normal for a guy to do something like that- he just happened to make the news because he was a prince. He's a normal guy, and that's okay.

Now before I go any further, you need to know that I'm not calling Harry a bad person. Please hear that. I don't know him, so I do not know his character. I'd like to think that he, like anyone, is not the sum of his mistakes. With that established, I want to say that it makes my heart sad to think that we consider such behavior as "normal," and "okay."

Less than 10  minutes earlier in the program that same anchor spoke of how he loved being a dad. He enthusiastically exclaimed that it had changed his life. Then he showed a picture of his young daughter. (I did not see the picture as I was in the next room.) It was positively adorable listening to him speak of his little girl and what it meant to be her daddy.

So now I'm wondering if his definition of a "normal" guy will be acceptable for his daughter when she is of dating age. I wouldn't think so, or at least I hope not.

Call me old fashioned or a straight-laced goody-two-shoes, but I think we need to be encouraging our children to be extraordinary. I've said to my kids (niece and nephews) several times that they should never settle for ordinary. And aren't we called to a higher way? The example set before us is Christ himself. That's pretty spectacular

Then I recalled a button I've seen several times on Pinterest.

It's true the world needs better behavior, but too many people think that is enough. It isn't. Being a good person isn't your ticket to eternity. The only true way to have eternal life is through the sacrifice of Jesus. 

I'd like to challenge the popular quote above. I think that your beliefs dictate your behavior, and if that's the case then we need to go back to the example of Christ. So I'd like to offer an alternative button... 

Let's encourage one another to be outstanding. Don't settle. Embrace the gift God has given, and be amazing.

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Cast Iron Skillet Apple Pie

I've had a few people ask for this recipe, but it's almost embarrassing to tell because it's just. so. stinking. simple. You know what else it is?

Ridiculously delicious!

Here's the pie.

I love the caramel syrup that bubbles up from the bottom. 

That's heaven in a skillet folks. 

(We even fuss over who gets the scrapings from the bottom of the pan.)

Ingredients list

4 lg Granny Smith apples

1-2 other apples depending on size (Gala, Fuji, Envy, or other)

1 refrigerated, ready-made pie crust (2 pieces)

1 stick of butter

1+ c of brown sugar (packed)

½ c sugar

2 tbs cinnamon

2 tsp nutmeg

1 tsp ginger

2 tbs flour

egg white & water mixture

a tiny mixture of cinnamon sugar (about 2 tsp)

Here's how I made it.

Peel and cut apples and put them into an acid-water bath to keep them from turning brown. You can use lemon or lime in the water. I used pineapple juice and water. I also like to throw in a surprise apple or two to mix it up with the Granny Smiths. This time I used 1½ Envy apples.

(Get your pie crusts out of the box, so they can warm to room temperature while you prepare your apples.)

Into a jar put 1/2 to 2/3 cup of sugar. I got carried away and used more sugar than I usually do. Add the flour to the sugar. This keeps the pie from getting runny inside. Nobody likes runny insides!

The next part was hard for me because I tried to come up with exact measurements for the spices for you precise people. I usually just dump my spices in until it looks and smells right to me. 

Now shake up the dry ingredients, but put the lid on first! I guess you could use a bowl and spoon to stir them up, but why?

Melt your butter over low-medium heat then add the brown sugar. I tend to add a little more than one cup. (Paula Deen would be proud.) Mix it together until it looks like chocolate gravy. Mmmmm. 

Lay your bottom crust on top of the gooey, delicious goodness. Now place your well drained apples on top of the crust. Don't dump them in because it will tear right through the dough. Remember it's floating on a sea of yummy, so it's a little delicate.

Pour the sugar mixture over the apples and breathe deep. 

It already smells amazing.

Cut a vent hole in the top crust and place it over the apples. I usually use a cookie cutter, but the only one I could find was a huge star, so I guess we're having patriotic pie tonight. 

Tuck the top crust down along the edges. Sometimes I worry about how it looks, so I try to get my edges pretty. Most of the time I don't care because no one will remember what it looks like. I promise! 

Using an extremely soft brush, or in this case my fingers, wash the top crust with the egg white-water mixture. You will want to do this lightly. Don't let it pool in the crevices. Sprinkle a little cinnamon sugar on top of the egg wash. This makes the crust glisten with a beautiful golden color. 

Now wrap  the edges with foil so they don't burn.  

Bake at 350° for 35 minutes and remove foil

Continue baking for 10-15 minutes depending on your oven, altitude, blah, blah, blah.

Let the pie cool on a baking rack for at least 15 minutes before serving. You should wait longer than that, but I dare you to try.

Enjoy.

And please come back to let me know if you give this try. 

I'd love to hear how it turned out for you.

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Can I Get an Interpreter?

The following is an overheard conversation between my parents.

Mama: (tongue tied while telling Daddy about a TV show she had seen advertised) It's called "Stars Earn Traps"

Daddy: Stars in a Crack?

Mama: No, not "Stars on Crack," it's "Stars Earn Stripes"

Daddy: Stars and Stripes? Huh? I don't know what you're talking about.

I don't know which one is Abbot and which one is Costello, but they make me laugh.


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focused on Glory (in fellowship)

I had a great day hanging out with a sweet friend today. Carla asked me to help her get canvases ready for a women's event at church. It was a great day with a great gal. We laughed, acted silly, and shared stories. What a present it turned out to be.

Without knowing it, earlier in the week, Carla repeated the Bible study lesson I had just covered. That lesson and Carla reinforced a decision I'd been called to. God has further substantiated what he has asked of me. Don't you love hearing him speak? I do.

focused on Glory is a weekly post in conjunction with Ponderings of an Elect Exile. Make sure you stop by to hear about the great blessing Jennifer encountered.

Thank you for visiting creative confetti!  Please take a moment to "like" creative confetti (website) on Facebook and/or follow me on Twitter. And I'd love to hear from you via the comment section or the email option on my profile page!  

Obey Right Away, All the Way, and With a Happy Heart

Have you ever had to make a decision that you knew would be unpopular? Even with yourself? That's where I was this morning. It's actually silly since it's something that God had called me to do months ago. However, there is a deadline racing toward me that made me hesitate and panic a wee bit.

It has to do with security. God asked me to trust him, and I said I would. Then days turned to weeks, weeks to months (yada yada yada), and I still didn't see his promised outcome. 

So I did what I do best. I began looking around for my own solution to help Him out a little- just until his plan fell into place. I'm sure he appreciated the fact that he had to herd a crazy, little kitten back into his arms.

Reading about Peter has helped. He suffered from a wishy-washy commitment too. At the Last Supper (Luke 22) he said to Jesus, "Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death," (v 33). But when asked Peter denied being one of Christ's disciples, or even knowing him- three times (v 56-60). The worst part? Back at the supper, after Peter had heralded his devotion, Jesus looked him in the eye and told Peter about the denials to come (v 34, 61). 

Ouch. That had to hurt. I'm sure Peter must have been a bit miffed. I bet Peter meant what he said to Jesus in verse 33. At least he meant it at the time.

I'm a lot like Peter, and maybe you are too. God calls me to trust him and follow, and I enthusiastically agree. Then the calendar pages start turning, and I'm still waiting. Eventually I begin to think of ways to start working without God. I turn to what I've done in the past- not bad things, just not what he has called me to.

Peter did that too. After Jesus raised himself from the grave, Peter went back to fishing (John 21). It was his comfort zone. He'd been a fisherman when Jesus called him to follow. Do you know what Jesus did? He met Peter and the others where they were. Jesus was on the shoreline. Jesus took Peter aside and reinstated him, removing the guilt of denial and a flip-flopping commitment. He gave Peter three opportunities to say how much he loved his Lord. 

Three for three. You have to love that.

So I was reminded that God doesn't need my help, and he isn't concerned with my timeline. Even though I am confined by deadlines, he is not. 

I've decided to ignore the deadline that's chasing me down. I took a stand this morning and told God that I would follow him even though it had my stomach in knots. 

That wasn't good enough. God wanted my obedience with a joyful heart. 

Really?

I'd just declared my devotion to his plan even though I was clueless as to what that may be. Surely that counted for something! 

Not so much.

God wanted me to be excited again. It's like what my friend Melissa tells her children, "Obey right away, all the way, and with a happy heart." (That doesn't mean it be smooth sailing.)

God wants me to be filled with joy as I wait for him. My trepidation and worry was destroying my joy. God gently quieted my heart with his love (Zep 3:17).

So I choose to obey with a happy heart, and I can't help but wonder if most of the blessing will be found in the joy rather than the outcome.

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Oops I Did it Again

Apparently my pinky toe is made of glass. I brushed it against the edge of a braided rug, and it snapped into. Again.

This is the seventh time, in seven years, my little toe has broken. The first time was so bad that my roommate almost threw up when she saw it. It. was. gross. (Skip the next few paragraphs if you have a weak stomach and don't want your lunch on your keyboard.)

I caught my little piggy on the strap of a duffle that was sticking out from under my bed. It made a cracking noise like when you pop your fingers. (Yes I pop my knuckles- don't judge.) I thought I had dislocated the toe. That had happened a time or two before, and I would roll my foot onto its side and move the toe back into place. Only it didn't slide back into place. 

I'm sure I turned grey. I know I wasn't breathing.

When I looked down, my little toe was flopped off to the side- perpendicular to my foot. Rolling my foot over the toe rocketed pain through my foot, up my leg, and out of the top of my head like lightening. I'm pretty sure there was a hole in my bedroom ceiling.

I managed to hop downstairs to ask if we had any medical tape in the house. My roommate didn't believe me when I told her what it was for. She stated that she hadn't heard me scream and asked how I knew it was broken. I pointed down and said, "Because that isn't natural." She leaned around her desk to look and almost barfed. To her credit, I hadn't made a sound when it happened.

We didn't have any cloth tape, so I used masking tape. It didn't really matter what I used because the toe was so swollen that I couldn't get it to set. And before anyone asks, no I didn't have any training to do this. However I can promise- you know when the bone is set and when it isn't. 

It wasn't until my lunch break the next day that I was able to get to a drugstore for the tape I needed. I sat in my car and pulled the toe up until it was set in the proper position. Once that happened the pain decreased by 50%. It still hurt like a donkey to walk on it, but the pain needle had been holding steady on a Godzilla level to that point.

Ten months later it snapped again just as bad. It has never been the same since. Now if you look at it too long it will break out of spite. I'd cut it off if it that wouldn't ruin all future sandal seasons. I actually have a pair of Born loafers that are one size too big that I keep for when my toe breaks. That's just sad.

Thank you for visiting creative confetti!  Please take a moment to "like" creative confetti (website) on Facebook and/or follow me on Twitter. And I'd love to hear from you via the comment section or the email option on my profile page!