Organic Half & Half

Do you ever think about how you’re going to die?  How about where you will be buried?  Maybe some want to be cremated and be scattered into their favorite body of water.  So maybe death isn’t the best “water cooler” conversation but at some point every single person has to deal with it.  This past week I had a special opportunity to hear some stories being told of real things happening in our world today that truly made me stop, take a breathe, and think different.

This is the story of a 19 year old young man by the name of Sam.  Sam is a believer of Jesus Christ who works for Gospel for Asia in India. He had just finished 2 years of training at a training school and just like everyone who graduates from the school, Sam was asked the question:  “Where is the Lord leading you to go?”

Sam had been praying long and hard and when asked this question by his leaders his response was, “Boundi.”  (pronounced: BOON DEE).  The story goes on to share about what has happened in Boundi and all the terrible things that have had to those who have gone to this village in North India to share the Truth of Jesus Christ.  K.P. Yohannan, the founder of GFA, was once a young missionary to this village and was beaten and stoned nearly to death.  The 7 missionaries before Sam had all fled because of torture and persecution.  There was a man and his family who were in Boundi only several months before Sam decided to go and he was dragged out into the middle of the village and his head was chopped off with an axe and his wife and child was spared but banned from the village.  I’m not sure about you but 3 days ago I got a paper cut and its still bothering me today.  I would be looking at the situation and think:  stoned and beaten + axe to the head = Boundi is an evil place.  

“Sam are you sure Boundi?  Boundi?  This is where the Lord is telling you to go?”  The leaders were surprised because they knew the history and that even Brother K.P. had been stoned there.  I’m trying to soak in the reality of what it would be like to be stoned and I can’t even imagine.  Not a rock or pebbles but big stones that are thrown over and over and over again at your body with one purpose and one purpose only…to inflict as much pain to the point of death as possible.  

“Yes, the Lord has laid on my heart to go to Boundi.  That is where I am called to go,” was Sam’s response right before he made the journey to N. India.  When Sam arrive into the village he managed to find a hut and rent it for $5/month.  Only being there a couple days Sam is interrupted in his slumber by 5 angry men in the middle of the night.  One very large and upset man with a turban on his head grabs Sam by his ankle and lifts him up in the air and shakes Sam like a maraca saying, “We know why you are here and we want nothing to do with it.  Take your message and religion and leave this village.  You have until tomorrow morning to be gone.  If you are here when we return I WILL rip your body in half like a chicken.”  The man drops Sam on his head and they leave.

Sam’s desire to be ripped in half was probably right up there with sticking hot coals up your rear.  Not exciting and a painful experience.  So Sam ran.  He ran all the way back to the training center and upon arriving the leaders saw the fear on Sam’s face.   “Sam, what happened?  Why are you back?”

“These men came in the middle of the night and shook me upside down telling me if I didn’t leave they would rip me in half like a chicken!”

Knowing the danger but understanding the Call the leaders asked, “Sam, did God tell you to go to Boundi?”

“Yes, yes He did.”

“Then Sam, you must go back to Boundi.”

“Are you crazy?  That man told me he would kill me!”

“Yes Sam they probably will kill you.  But heaven is better than Boundi.  God has told you to go to Boundi and share the Gospel.  You must return.  When you return dig your own grave as you come into the village, and then share the Gospel of Christ with everyone you can.”

Sam went back to Boundi and dug his grave, went back into Bundi and then started passing out tracts and preaching on the street again.  Within a couple of hours the 5 guys came up to him again.  The huge guy with the turban on his head stepped up and said, "Why did you come back to Bundi. You are making
murderers out of us. We told you we would kill you. I told you I would
tear you in half like a chicken.  It’s your fault. Get ready to die."

Sam said, "Go ahead and kill me. The quicker you do it, the sooner I’ll be in heaven with Jesus. After you kill me you can throw my body in the grave I dug on the outside of the village.  But with every breath I have, I am going to tell you about the love of Jesus."   They beat Sam that day.  And beat him and beat him…but Sam didn’t die.

2 months later Brother K.P. gets a call back at the US Headquarters from the leader of the Training Center, “We want you to come to Boundi.”  Brother K.P. remembered Boundi.  He remembered the horrible things that happened there once long ago.  “Please come to Boundi, you must see with your own eyes.”

Upon arrive the sights and sounds were a far cry from the Boundi he remembered.  He stepped into the very first church ever planted in Boundi.  They walked into the church only to be amazed at the over 200 people that were there to worship the name of God.  Sam with excitement ran up to Brother K.P. and said, “Look, look over there.  That man with the turban on his head, that is the man that said he would rip me in half like a chicken.  And those 2 men over there, those were the men that were going to kill me as well.  And over there are their families.  Look and see what God has done!”

I think Sam got “it”.  He understands when Paul said, “To live is Christ, and to die is gain.”  So maybe no body is going to come in the middle of the night and tell me they’re going to rip me in half like a pot belly pig (I’m not so much skinny like a chicken).  But every day I figure out ways to live better in this world.  To get more comfortable and live life with more and more.  But I think if I search the message of the Gospel it is one that says DIE.  Die to yourself and die to those selfish desires.  Maybe today I’ll go “dig my own grave”.  And maybe today will be the first time I truly begin to “live”.

SB

The last 3 years of my life has been filled with many struggles and heartbreaks.  And my one prayer through it all has been a prayer to find Truth.  If Christ said that when we find truth it would set us free then well that’s what I wanted.  I wanted to know what that meant because my heart was far from set free.  So here are excerpts of thoughts I’ve had over the past 3 years.  It may not make sense but maybe if your past or present is filled with broken hearts or big screw ups then maybe this will help just a little.

The Truth is a story about Redemption.  Big word for a simple meaning.  I think it simply means we were taken care of.  Every story, person, or event in the bible is some how tied into this prevailing thought that God is passionately coming after us to make things right.  He is coming to be our Hero.  Sounds very Hollywood but you know what?I like that.  And I think that’s what it is.  This so called Bible is one big love story.  Of a Good God who wants to give His children the very best thing for usnot to make our lives nice, neat, and comfortablebut to satisfy our hearts.  God desires more than anything in the world to satisfy our aching heart.  And He knows the only thing that will satisfy it is Him

and way way way down in the deep parts of my heart I want it to be real.  Why?  Because my heart hurts.  My heart aches for a love like this.  I’ve tried to find this love.  I’ve searched in relationships and couldn’t find it.  Hoped power would bring fullness and that left me just as empty.  I grasped at this idea that ministry and doing God’s work MUST bring about this satisfactionand all my efforts to make this love happen in my life just seemed like a big waste of my time.  And in the midst of trying to figure out this whole story of Truth I realized one simple thing.  I’m not living in the story.  See, I’ve just shared this story for a long time and in doing so it just became another story.  One for the ages.  A story that happened a long time ago in a far off place where fairy tales happen.  And it became more about a King that once conquered death and not a Savior that lives today.  Hmmm, how could something so simple make such a difference?…

and isn’t that what we all want?  Christian or notisn’t that what we’re all seeking.  Work, money, fame, success, relationshipsthe list goes on.  We want to worship something and we want that worship to make our heart full.  To make our souls warm and secure and complete.  Isn’t that what everyone seeks?…  

and I hurt today more than anything because I haven’t shared this Story more.  Not about a Jesus who can save your lost lifeBut a Savior that has saved mine.  "By His Stripes I am Healed."  Is that truly the only story I have?  I can’t keep trying to think I know about your sins and what you’re going through.  I can’t own up to anyone elses wrongbut I do know mine. I don’t knowbut when my life becomes a story of being redeemed because I can’t get this life rightthen I wonder how different my life will look? When its quiet at night, and everyone has gone to bedwhen I can’t be fake it because there is no one aroundthat’s when I knowI’m messed up

…when Jesus speaks for the first time on why he has come he says this from Isaiah 61:
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He anointed me to preach GOOD NEWS to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim FREEDOM for the prisoners and recovery of SIGHT for the BLIND, to RELEASE the oppressed.."

In Isaiahit also says to bind up the brokenhearted, to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes the oil of gladness instead of mourning  Wow!  Amazing!  And you know what?  I’m that personI’m the brokenhearted and the one that’s in prison.  This whole time I’ve read the story and got excited about the fact that Jesus has come to save those that need Him

myselfishness and pride caused me to miss that person in need of a Savior was myself

because the scary thing is that I think I can live my life without ever being "set free" and it would be a good life.  It would have success, a good church, nice friends, and all the sweet Christian accessories to go along with this perfect lifebut then would that be all life is about?…

..I have lived too long a life talking about cheap grace, teaching about semi-joy, and worshipping a small God.  And in that time I have found glory, success, great feelings, and fame.  Broken I see that my life has only brought emptiness to where the deep parts of my heart is asking, "Is this it?"  And in some small or big way I think people every day ask, "Is this it?"  Once againI have no answers.  I have no formulas or ways to make this all come to a close and to make everything better

but I do have a story to share.  A story that is full of love, adventure, excitement, tears, heartbreak, and an ending that tops all in the box office

what that means to me is that my heart wants to say thank you.  Thank you to the Lover that has fought a war for me and rescued me.  I am rescued today and I want to tell you about it.  I want to share with everyone that I am set free

I am far from perfect but I am set free, my heart is set free

I want to meet someone who struggles with alcohol or drug problems.  I want to sit down and share life with a homosexual or one that has been hurt by divorce.  I want to hold hands with someone who feels shame from an abortion or is dealing with greed.  I can’t wait to find that person who has been having sex with people to find fulfillment in relationships.  I can’t waitbecause when that happens I just want to hug them.  And to hold them.  And tell them this:  "I don’t have any answers to make the problems in your life go away.  I can’t find a solution to make your world a better place.  But I can share with you something that will fill that hole in your heart.  I do want to tell you about my storya story of grace and love.  And I just want you to know today that I love you and more importantly God is crazy about you."

If I’m honest with myself I don’t want this feeling to go away.  And today is the first day I pray that I never forget my sin.  That I will never forget I am desperate for God  

that I would never ever forget what has made me experience God like I have.  If it takes a crushed life then I pray God you crush me.  If it takes humility then I pray God you humble me.  If you have to take everything away from my life again because my sins are so greatthen I pray God you take it all.  And leave me nothing but your Grace, leave me nothing but your love, leave me nothing but You.  And then and only then Godwill I truly be satisfied.

SB 

Ok, so nobody calls them Toe-MA-toes.  But some do think its a vegetable.  No matter what you may say about these little red goodies there is one thing for certain.  There is nothing like vine ripe tomatoes.  I grew up eating tomato sandwiches that my ‘Gran’ would make in North Carolina.  Fresh white bread, some Duke’s Mayonnaise, and a couple thick slices of vine ripe heaven.   

This past weekend Christine and I decided it was time to start planting.  In one of the pictures you can notice the rows and how they are elevated.  We have no idea if that is what you’re suppose to do but the same people that told me the worms were good to have I think told me to do that as well.  Can’t remember.  Hope you enjoy the pics and as more things happen you’ll see new stuff.

One thing that hit me square in the face as I was looking at The Plot after we sowed seeds was this.  If these plants do not give me great tomatoes I’m going to be pissed.  Seriously, I’m going to be livid.  We got the tray, then we added the seeds and did the whole greenhouse thing.  Then we plowed, and turned the soil, and tossed and turned that soil.  I think about all the things that went into getting just those seedlings into the ground and if they don’t give me tomatoes then they are useless.  Oh I will be so flippin mad!

That’s when I realized that I don’t think we “get” some of the things Jesus said.  Its just tough when we live in a world of computers, offices, and 401Ks.  Here are some of those words that don’t mean the same anymore…

“Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.”

SB 

“We built this city.  We build this city on Rock ‘N Roll.”  Now that brings back many memories for me. I remember as a little boy I would fall asleep to the radio every night.  I would lean over to the right side of my bed and hit the sleep button on my small brown clock radio.  For the next 59 minutes all of the current songs would play me to sleep.  Maybe this is where my love for 80’s music comes from.  I loved music.  I would memorize songs, dance to them, and I played drums (upside down popcorn tins) in the neighborhood band.  If we were lip sinking to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” I would take lead vocals and rock my half Korean booty.

Maybe it was moving for the 3rd time or that whole puberty thing but I went through a long phase where I didn’t enjoy music in the same way.  DJ Jazzy Jeff, Cocktail sound track, and the red vinyl jacket with lots of pockets.  These were only some of the many things that music was about.  Its what makes you feel, come alive, and enjoy life in a different way.

Only recently have I gotten back into music.  And I contribute almost all of that to my wonderful wife.  She is the queen of music.  She has 1000s of CDs and can name all kinds of bands from many eras.  I’m enjoying many different artist and want to begin sharing them with you.  So be on the look out for new and old artists.  My hope is we can all enjoy music together.

SB

I had the opportunity tonight to talk to a blast from my past.  Ever get to talk with a friend that you haven’t talked to in at least 10 years?  I’m sure many of you have experienced something like it via Myspace.  Am I really getting to the point where I can say, “10 years ago I remember…”

It was great to catch up but it bothered me some to hear how things are going for him.  My old friend has gone through some tough things.  I’d rather not get into the details but there are some big struggles and life has beaten him down.  But what truly bothered me was not what he has done but how Christians have responded to him through this time in his life.  We all would like to say we would show grace and love to anyone but would we?  How would we act if we were in the same room as a homosexual?  What about a woman who has just had an abortion?  Or a guy who just can’t kick his coke habit.  Are we brave enough to be Christ to them?  To share the REAL Gospel.  You know, the one that is about a Savior who comes to SAVE and change lives and turn what we know upside down.

Thinking about this tonight has got me thinking of many things.  Why is it that when we really start looking into the lives we live as Christians it seems to be very far from the way Christ lived and what the Gospels are truly about.   He loved those who no body gave the time of day.  And he despised those that thought they had their lives together.  And it begins to disgust me that I fall into that horrible trap.  Worrying about finances, looking for a new home, how good the sermon was, who is coming to the party, finding the perfect car, taking another trip, thinking about having kids, showing another baby picture, making sure the family is happy, running another errand, and having the right outfit are some of many things that seem to consume our lives.  Isn’t it amazing how we can get so into the groove of life that one day we look up and our lives are consumed with so many things…but nothing eternal.

I’m sad tonight because when I look around I see good Christian’s lives but I do not see dangerous messengers of the Gospel of Christ.  I’m not talking about being a martyr.  I’m talking about the willingness to not be perfect.  Holding the hand of a stranger and crying with an old friend.  You know what’s funny?  As I finish writing this blog entry I in some ways feel like I’m “over the top” or “radical” with these thoughts.  And then I realize maybe those fears are the very things that have kept people from loving my old friend and crippled him from finding Freedom for his heart.

I hope this got you thinking more than give you answers.  And any thoughts you would like to add would be great.

SB

“It is impossible to risk your life to make others glad in God if you are an unforgiving person.  If you are wired to see other people’s faults and failures and offenses, and treat them roughly, you will not take risks for their joy…We will not gladly risk to make people glad in God if we hate them, or hold grudges against them, or are repelled by their faults and foibles.  We must become forgiving people.”

These profound words from Dr. John Piper have had me thinking for a while now.  I think about it on the days my flesh is weak or the times I remember how disgusting my past has been.  I also remember it on the days where my pride is so much that I subconsciously believe I am the center of the world.    No matter what it is that reminds me of this thought I can’t escape it being a cross road I come to almost every day.  

Why is forgiving someone so hard?  Why is it so tough to love those that are unlovable?  Why do we turn our noses and make fun of those that are different or wrong?  I don’t have answers to these very hard questions.  But what I am realizing is every moment and day that goes by where I do not have this truth on my heart to forgive, then its one more day that goes by that I am wasting my life.  Isn’t it funny how the amount of grace we give can be directly in proportion to how much grace we need at that time.  When life is “perfect” and nothing is going wrong then I seem to be haughty and prideful.  Yet those moments in life when I need a 2nd chance are the times where grace is more real than it ever could be.  And grace seems so easy to share.

I have had many conversations with people about why we can’t be real and authentic with our relationships.  Then that spills into the question on why we can’t be that way with our church community.  Maybe that answer lies in the reality that no body wants to share the real self because they risk not being forgiven.  Forgiveness does a very powerful thing.  It makes things right.  We forgive, we do not judge, and we lay our pride aside because in doing so we give God.  We give a small piece of something that we seldom see in this world today.  Joy.  Joy that comes in the form of restoration.  

Man there is a lot of sadness in this world.  And a lot of hatred.  And its sad to see so many that are not glad in God.  Maybe forgiveness is a small way to change that.

SB

This recipe is in honor of a good friend who currently lives in everyone’s favorite vacation spot of Moldova.  You get a dollar if you can guess what countries border this wonderful place.  So here is to my friend Mark Dalton and his love of queso.  For all of you who live in Dallas you might have gone to a little place called Mattitos.  They have what is called the Bob Armstrong Dip (not even on the menu).  Well, this is my version and it won’t disappoint.  If you want to be a hit at the next party than bust out your crock-pot and throw all this in.

1 block Velveeta cheese
1 1/2 lbs of ground beef (stay away with anything that is super lean, fat is flavor)
1 can of Mexican Ro-Tel
1 pkg Taco Seasoning (the best stuff out there is Penzeys Bold Taco Seasoning)
1 Cup of Sour Cream (please for the love of all things don’t buy the light)
1 pkg pre-made guacamole (find this on the produce side of the store and it comes in 2s)

chips: Tostitos Scoops and Fritos Scoops are perfect for this dip.

To get this started chop up your cheese and throw it into your crock-pot.  If you have the time start the temp at low.  Then open up your Ro-Tel and pour it over the top.  After that, brown your beef and add the taco seasoning.  DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT drain the grease.  I know I know, you ALWAYS drain the fat but not when you want full flavor baby.  Then you just let it all melt and ooze together.  About 20 min before you serve the dip add the sour cream and guac.  It is very important that you do not put these 2 items in until you are ready to serve.  Stir it all together and hear the mariachis playing because its fiesta time!  

Now if you want to get fancy and “plate” the dip to bring to a table then garnish with chopped red onions, tomatoes, and cilantro.

Simple and wonderful.  Hope you enjoy this recipe one bite at a time.

SB

Out of all the recipes I have in my little wooden box of wonders this one might be one of my favorites.  It’s a recipe by Jewell Bailey my grandmother from Bunn, NC (pop. 357).  “Gran” as we call her raised 5 little ones on this cake and then passed it on to my mother who then passed it on to me.  If there is ever a recipe that takes patients and love its this one.  You can’t open and close the oven door, you can’t over mix or under mix…everything has to be just right.  Much practice goes into making this work.  There are stories where Gran would not let anyone talk more than a whisper and if you ran through the house you’d get whooped with the wooden spoon.  I ventured into the world of baking my junior year in college and was very ambitious as I started with this recipe.  I ruined 5 cakes before I kinda got it right.  The beauty of a recipe like this is over time it gets better.  So maybe one day when I’m 77 I’ll have learned to get it just like Gran ☺

3 C Flour (measure after you sift it)
3 C Sugar
2 Sticks Land O Lakes at Room Temp
6 Eggs
1 C Sour Cream
1/4 tsp Baking Soda (sift with flour)
1 tsp Vanilla (Penzey’s Double Strength if ya got it)

Preheat an oven to 325. Grease and flour a tube pan.

In a bowl of a mixer cream together the butter and the sugar.  Now one at a time as the mixer is going add 1 egg at a time.  Do not over mix, just mix until all together.  Get the flour w/baking soda that has been sifted and put a little bit into the bowl and mix.  (This is where having a Kitchen Aid is wonderful because you can just keep that mixer going.)  Then put a little bit of sour cream in.  Then a little flour.  Then sour cream.  And so on.  Last stir in the vanilla. 

Pour into pan and bake for 1 hour and 15 min.  Time will depend on your oven (+/- 5 min).  Use the toothpick test to know if its done.  Try to keep the opening and closing to a minimum.  If you can pull it out clean without gooey then you’re good.  Let cool in pan for about 10 min and then unmold it and cool on rack.

Ok, so the best part of this recipe is the crust it forms on the top.  Oh mama!  But the tricky part is dealing with it rising too fast and the crust over cooking before the cake is done.  So if you encounter this then you may want to place a piece of foil on top to allow the cake to continue to cook.

Cake is BEST hot out of the oven with coffee.  Strawberries and real Whipped Cream make it heavenly.  I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as I have and if you are brave enough to tackle this recipe and have questions then let me know.

SB

I wish I could take credit for what I’m about to post but I can not.  This is truly one of the greatest posts I’ve ever read.  I’ve found that reading it out loud with a group who appreciates the laughters of life is the best way to experience this story.  I stumbled across this one day and I started to read this every day post about a girl going to work out with her husband.  About half way into the post I couldn’t stop laughing.  Take a seat, read out loud, and laugh:

"After our aerobic exercise we always stretch out on the mats and then do several sets of sit-ups on the crunch machine. During this specific workout Jon was standing about ten feet away lifting weights as I churned through my first set of 30 crunches. At about crunch 13 I was overcome with a sudden urge but didn’t think much of it because I was concentrating on making it to crunch 14. The crunch machine at our gym requires that you lie on your back with your feet in the air tucked behind a set of bars, and there I was on my back, my feet elevated so that they were parallel with my head, my butt perched at the end of the vinyl seat like a little prairie dog poking its head out of a burrow.

As my arms came up over my head to complete the 14th crunch the urge that I had tragically ignored gave way to The World’s Loudest Fart, an expulsion of air so quick and violent that it ricocheted off the vinyl seat and shook two 40 lb weights hanging behind Jon’s head. It was so loud that I could hear it over the music on my iPod playing in my ears. I’ll never forget the look on Jon’s face as his arms collapsed to his side, as his body almost crumbled beneath him from laughter. It was a strange set of emotions I then experienced because on the one hand I just wanted to stop existing. I couldn’t turn my head or move my body in any way because I might make eye contact with someone who had heard it and that would be more than I could possibly bear. I didn’t want to be confronted with the reality that someone other than an immediate family member, that a stranger had heard me fart. That’s a sacred song you don’t share with just anyone.

On the other hand I was delighted that I had made Jon laugh so hard, so hard in fact that he had to walk it off and muffle the noise because he was bringing even more attention to the fact that his wife just farted loudly in public. One of my greatest joys in life is witnessing something that makes Jon laugh. Things are funnier when he laughs maybe because I’ve shared certain experiences with him that inform his sense of humor, and I can see the angle at which something hits him. It reveals his soul in such a magical way. I imagined him standing there with two 15 lb weights in each of his hands, his arms straining to hold them straight out from his sides when his wife who is positioned so that her body is shaped like a rocket launcher rips a trombone fart so suddenly, so authoritatively — Behold, This is My Fart — that the immediate shock of it feels like a cannon ball has been shot into his chest.

That’s when the weights dropped, that’s when his legs went wobbly because every part of his brain was trying to process the impossible. And then he saw how paralyzed I was, that my body had stopped moving, that I had sealed my eyes shut in an attempt to will my body into dust. And he knew that no matter how hard I tried to withdraw from what had just happened, no matter the distance I tried to put between myself and that gash I had just torn in the fabric of our lives, that I would never be able to reverse the fact that he knew that he was married to a Public Farter."

All credit goes to dooce.com.  I don’t even know who this girl is but I thank her for this post.

SB

Is it just me or does anyone else find a fascination with elevators.  Ok, that sounds crazy but when you really start to think about it this small room transports people up and down buildings so they don’t have to use the stairs.  Pretty cool that we can work and live 100’s of feet above the ground.

Did you know that elevators never have a button for floor 13?  Really?  Are the elevator people THAT superstition?  You would think there would be one rebel elevator designer who would go against the grain but I am yet to take a ride to the 13th.  Please post if you discover differently.

Why is it that when there is a group of people waiting to get on an elevator and the button has ALREADY been pushed someone HAS to come push the button again?  I’ve come to the conclusion that people get very impatient about waiting for the doors to open.  So they feel if they push the ALREADY glowing orange button it will let the elevator know that it needs to speed things up.  

I walked to the elevator just the other day and there was a gentleman waiting to get on.  But what I didn’t understand was there was an elevator with doors wide open right in front of him.  So I squeezed by and got on.  And of course the guy jumps on the elevator with me.  The first thing out of his mouth was, “Oh, the doors were open so I didn’t know if it worked.”  Huh?  I didn’t even know how to respond so I just said, “Yep.”  The entire elevator experience can really confuse people.

Or how about in a situation where someone has pushed the down button waiting for the elevator to arrive.  And when the elevator doors open but the light shows its going UP no one ever gets on.  Why is that?  Has everyone forgotten that the elevator is controlled by the people on the INSIDE of the elevator?  So if NO ONE is inside then no one has told the elevator where to go.  So step inside, push floor 1, and head down.

There is no better place to use one word phrases then in the elevator.  It’s the first day of the week, you get on the elevator with one other person and they say, “Muunday.”  To which you respond, “Yeah.”  And the conversation ends right there.  Or at the end of the week when you get on and someone blurts out, “Friiiday.”  If I’m ever wanting to know what day of the week it is I just take a ride to the 5th floor.

So the next time you’re in an elevator and you are hitting the ‘close door’ button very fast to shut it before someone else gets on, maybe you’ll remember why I had to post about the crazy little world of the elevator.

SB

What I’m about to share with you could very well change your life.  This is a recipe that has been in the works for about 6 years now.  My sister and I started this back at Baylor and tried all kinds of wonderful combinations.  More butter, more sugar, more chocolate…all the key things that make sweets what they are.  My wonderful wife helped me with final touches and what we have today is a work of love.  The secret ingredient is the instant pudding.  We have tried EVERY flavor and the butterscotch is the rock star.  Everyone tries to put their finger on it and can’t quite figure it out.

In all my recipes I stress the importance of ingredients.  That is truly the key in all cooking and when it comes to these cookies there is no question that quality ingredients make this a darn good cookie.  The spices used in this recipe are from a store called Penzeys.  My best friends wife, Mary, introduced me to them a while ago and I’ve enjoyed it ever since.  If you do not live in Dallas (where they just opened a store at Preston/635) then you can order them online at Penzeys.com.  My tongue is doing a little dance thinking about how awesome these cookies are.  So here goes:

Remember quality ingredients:

2 sticks Land O’ Lakes butter at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar-packed
1 small box Jell-o Instant BUTTERSCOTCH pudding
2 eggs
1 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
2 1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 package Ghirardelli MILK CHOCOLATE chips

Start off by preheating oven to 375.

Cream butter, sugar, and brown sugar.  Add the Jell-o (just the powder), 2 eggs, cinnamon, and vanilla and beat until light and fluffy.  DO NOT OVER MIX.

Add flour and baking soda.  Then add chocolate chips, but remember just bring it all together ~ don’t leave it mixing while you go to the bathroom or anything ☺  

Place balls of dough onto an UNGREASED cookie sheet, scooping dough for each cookie with a tablespoon ~ this will allow you to have equal-sized cookies. Between batches make sure you wipe down the sheet and that it’s cool before using it for the next batch. Bake for 8-10 minutes.  Every oven is different so watch those cookies closely.  Every 30 seconds in that oven changes the cookie.   Remember that cookies continue to bake a little bit once removed from the oven, so take the cookies out right before you think they are done.  Put them on a cooling rack immediately to cool completely.

I don’t share all of my recipes but this is one that I will.  Enjoy the Yum factor and savor every bite.

SB 

Part 2 of 2:

So I’m coming off the Marconi Grill debacle and I’m looking to “totally redeem myself” with the perfect romantic comedy.  I would like to stop right here before we get going and remind my audience that my wonderful date is a small girl.  She MIGHT be 94 pounds dripping wet.  She’s wearing tight fitting designer jeans and a form fitting tee.  Why do I share this information you might ask?  Just wait, juuust you wait. 

So we stroll to the ticket counter and if memory serves me correct I think I attempted to hold her hand.  When we get to the ticket counter I ask for 2 tickets to The American President.  And just when I think things are on the up swing the lady says, “Sorry, sold out.”  I mean honestly can things get worse?  I’m quick on my toes this time and ask for 2 tickets to Pocahontas.  Pocahontas?  I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth.  If you think she looked at me weird when I ordered pasta with my cheese then she was REALLY looking at me weird now.  Why I didn’t say Crimson Tide or even Die Hard w/ A Vengeance is beyond me.  Both great movies in the theatre at that time.  But no, I choose a G rated movie about an Indian princess singing about Colors of the Wind.  Oh, I wanted to just die. 

“So we’re going to see Pocahontas huh?” Angela says with a curious smile.

I had to think quick.  What was I going to say?  Yes Angela, that’s exactly what we’re doing.  I thought a Disney classic would go great with our night of cheese and crayons.  No.  I can’t go down like this I thought to myself.  So I did what every legalistic naïve teenage Christian dares to do.  And with a cool smirk on my face I say, “Of course not, we’re sneaking IN to the American President.”

I thought I was the shit.  Well, back then I would have thought I was the stuff.  But regardless I strutted into that sold out theatre…only to have my hopes crushed.  (The kind of crushed when you are hoping for the cash at Christmas and you get a sweater from grandma instead.)  There was not a seat to be found.  The movie is about to begin and I’m scanning every row only to realize that the best option for us was on the front row, ALL the way to the right.  Picture if you will one of those gianormous stadium style theatres.  You know how they have those 5 rows up in the front that are on level ground?  Well, that’s where we are sitting.  So I’m in the seat to the far right and Angela is sitting next to me on my left on the front row. We are so close and so far right that in order to see the screen we have to sit with our knees to our left and then we have to lean back to look up at the 75 foot screen. 

As the lights dim down and the movie is about to begin I’m trying to calculate in my head when the perfect moment will be to attempt the “slide the hand to the knee and hope we hold hands” move.  Well, then it happenes.  Out of the corner of my left eye, I see Angela slowly slide her right hand down the front of her pants.  I was nervous, shocked, appalled, giddy, and confused all at the same time.  I had heard about things like this happening in the movie theatre but A. I thought that was only an urban legend and B. I screwed the cheese thing up so there is no way I’m going to handle THIS situation right.  What do I say?  What do I do? 

“Um, no thanks I’m good right now.”  Or maybe I should say, “Maybe later.”  I mean what was she thinking?  Maybe she had an itch or she was just adjusting.  Do girls even do THAT? 

Right then, she starts bringing her hand out from her groinal area and out comes a 1 pound bag of Twizzlers.  My date just gave birth to candy.  This girl has twizzlers in her crotch!  And she opens the bag of delicious red sweets, pulls out several sticks, looks at me and says, “Twizzler?” 

“Uh.  I, uh.  Um.  Suuure.”  My voice was shaking and meek.  I held 2 Twizzlers in my hand that I just got from my dates “carinal treasures” (think Tad Hamilton) and I didn’t know what to say.  I had many questions though.  How?  Why?  HOW!  Where in the world was she hiding an ENTIRE bag of Twizzlers?  She is tiny remember?  Tight jeans remember!  When did she put that bag down there?  Where was I when ALL of this was going on?  Who hides Twizzlers in their underoos!?!?!

I am sad to say that was our only date.  There was no kiss at the end because to be honest I was in a very fragile state of mind.  Too many things had happened in one evening for me.  But it was a night I will never forget.  So the next time you’re at the Macaroni Grill, or the lights start to dim at your next box office hit, just remember the Twizzler girl…and laugh.

Its all about the memories,
SB
 

Part 1 of 2:

This is a story I’ve shared with many and have enjoyed the laughters of how far from smooth I was back in the day.  Good thing times have changed ☺  Everyone remembers what it was like to go on your first date.  Or the euphoria you felt on the best kiss ever.  I bet everyone even smiles a bit thinking of the bad dates.  As for me my worst date ever will go down in history as the day I vowed to never ever sneak into a sold out movie again.

I was the young age of 17 years old.  With only 12 months of driving under my belt, I had been on very few real dates.  Now I would like to pause early in this story to share with those that didn’t know me in high school that there was not an ounce of cool in me.  Yes I wore Abercrombie & Fitch and sprinkled on the Cool Water but I also played the tuba and drove a 1989 Ford Tempo GL…with chrome hub caps.  So when I asked Angela (made up name to protect the innocent) one of the hottest girls at L.V. Berkner High School out on a date, the dork in me was already prepared for rejection.  So you can imagine my surprise when she said she’d love to go out Friday night.  

Could this be happening?  I’m honestly going to be going out with a hot girl?  Angela was everything a guy like me desired.  Petite, long hair, and a body that would…(insert sound of car slamming on brakes)…so lets just say she was b-e-autiful.  ☺  I washed the Tempo (w/ automatic seat belts), took 2 showers, and gargled with Scope just in case (wink,wink).  I picked Angela up and presented her with a single rose.  I planned on doing everything right even though my nerves made me sweat like an elephant in heat.  By the time I opened the first door for Angela I think my back was already wet and my underwear was damp.  “Stay calm,” I told myself.  But how could I?  This was a night I was never suppose to forget.

Our first stop was Macaroni Grill.  I know, I’m a smooth operator aren’t I?  You can’t get better than great Italian food AND drawing on the table.  We ordered our food and I tried to make small talk.  I’m sure I mumbled and didn’t make sense because every time I looked across the table I was silenced by her smile.  To this day I swear that someone slipped a Roofy pill into my iced tea because  when the food arrived I stepped into another world for 5 min.  The waiter placed both of our plates in front of us and asks me if I’d like Parmesan cheese with my pasta.  I reply, “yes.” And that’s when the drug took over.  Because for some crazy reason I did not hear the waiter say, “Say when.”  So he just keeps piling on the cheese and turning that crank to create a mound of white stuff on my plate.  I felt like Will Ferrell in Old School when he gets hit with the tranquilizer dart.  Everything was in slow mode and nothing would come out.  I just stared at my plate and Angela is looking at me with confusion.  And the waiter runs out of cheese and says, “Hold on, I’ll go get more.”  At this point I realize what has happened.  I missed the: Say When.  He walks away and Angela says, “You know you’re suppose to say When???”  Flustered I pull myself together and calmly say, “I know.”  But now I’m out there…the guy is coming back and I’ve told Angela I’m a freak that loves cheese so I have to let him put more cheese on before I say those words.  He starts firing away and subtly I let out a quiet, “When.”  
The date would have been fine if that was the only whack thing that happened that night.  But it wasn’t.  There was still a movie left.  And what comes next will not only shock you but hopefully make you laugh.  

To be continued…

First week of April my company was in Steamboat, CO for a mini conference we do every year for pastors to get away and enjoy the snow.  I had a meeting in Denver and needed to take Ugly Mug Coffee Co. to the airport.  On my 3 hour journey back I jammed my iTrip to the Fray and the Weepies. With about an hour and a half left on my journey through the snow I pass a guy wearing just a t-shirt with a card board sign that says “Steamboat”.  Remember the story of the Good Samaritan?  I was not him, I kept driving.  When all of a sudden the Spirit says to me, “Pick him up.”  Which I ignore and turn up the music hoping to drown out any more whispers.  I hear again, “Pick him up.”  I pull into a parking lot and began to rationalize with God that He can’t really expect me to pick this guy up because I’ve never done this before and this is one of those get out of your comfort zone things that I don’t really want to do today.  And as clear as can be God says, “Just share life with him.”  So I pull out of the parking lot and look down the road hoping my soon to be new friend has disappeared.  I get down the road and bust a u-turn and pull over.  Roll the window down and say do you need a ride?  That really was a dumb question but what else do you say?  

The next hour and a half was filled with conversations about all aspects of life.  The drug situation in Steamboat, CO, why Christians suck at being like Christ, and what Freedom of the Heart really means.  My new friend shared with a me a motto that the good hippie folks of Colorado live by.  “Just go outside, man.”  It means don’t let life beat you down.  If you start getting stressed out then go outside and soak up the beauty of creation.  Enjoy the mountains and the flowers.  Be amazed by the blue sky.  Seems like a phrase we should all live by.   

I learned a lot from my new friend.  He shared with me stories about backpacking through Costa Rica and living life not being so worried about having it all together.  I had the wonderful chance to share with him what Freedom of the Heart was. At least what I thought it was.  I talked about how we all want it.  Even if we don’t believe in Jesus Christ we all want to fill that void in our hearts.  We may not know what it is and that’s why we try and find it in a better job or better relationships.  But the truth is we’re all wanting to be freed.  That’s another topic for another time…

So here’s to less stress.  To feel the heat of the sun on your skin and to not let life just happen.  Here’s to just going outside and noticing how beautiful God made things.  Here’s to freeing our hearts and not letting the daily grind beat us down.

SB