Cookies and Christ

Bry was told that it would be best to let Jodi be cared for by the nurses and doctors- and that he should get good sleep. 
I reserved two rooms at a nearby hotel. Bry spent ten minutes of one day in his room to take a shower—and only that—because Jodi’s ICU room didn’t have one. 
He championed every step of her recovery. She was a warrior fighting for better health. He took every literal step with her, cheering her on…

My job…?
Literally-
To watch the miracles unfold and bring in food…

One evening, I left the hospital after dropping off food and grabbed a to-go bag for myself at a nearby drive-through. 
I was trying to get back to the hotel before dark. The hotel was close to the hospital but not in the direction of a really great neighborhood. 
I felt safe-ish…
I had finished my sandwich as I drove and quickly gathered my trash so that the car I borrowed from my sister wouldn’t have a lingering stale fried-food smell. 
I briskly walked to the entrance of the hotel. A thick marijuana smell filled the cold evening air. 
I went to my room, triple checked the lock on the door, and crawled into bed. 
I had nothing left for the day. Every bit of mental and emotional energy I had-
I had used. 
I needed to rest, regroup, and recharge to continue my outside of the norm routine. I felt very task-oriented. Such was a good thing. However, the sun wasn’t shining. Every day, the weather was a rain/snow mix. I had underdressed and underpacked for the “spring” Colorado weather. 

I was chilly throughout each day. 

On the final day the kids were at the hospital there loomed an April winter storm warning. 
Several feet of snow were expected. 
The timeline worked out amazingly, and we arrived back at my sister’s before the heavy snow began to fall. 
We arrived to a package on the front step of my sister’s…

My daughter had sent me fleece-lined leggings and a thick sweatshirt. She had asked if I needed it. I told her I didn’t. I had assured her I was “fine.”
But my “fine” was a chill I couldn’t and hadn’t shaken for days…
I literally hate the cold. My body hates to be cold. 
I called my daughter with tear-filled eyes of gratitude. I went straight upstairs to my borrowed room and pulled the leggings on with my bone-chilled fingers and settled in at my sister’s home. 

The spring storm dumped several layers of ice and snow. My sister and her husband were out of town. 
We hunkered down with no plans to leave our mountainous borrowed home until everything white and beautiful was melted. 

4 days passed…

During this time, we watched TV, cooked, baked, and chatted. 
Jodi adjusted to life with her cervical collar and took her -doctor-mandated- steps each day around my sister’s home. 

One afternoon, while “walking” she paused to survey the white landscape outside the floor-to-ceiling windows…
She whipped her torso around and said…
“I think I feel bored.”
Bry and I looked up with a silent pause.  She had our attention with her conviction…but we didn’t fully understand. 
She went on to explain that sick people don’t feel bored. You have to feel ok to feel bored. Boredom is a luxury sick people don’t know. 
I had never thought to be grateful that I’ve felt bored or restless…
It’s a blessing to feel enough energy to feel that way. 

I was now a full week into my time in Colorado. This entire experience was literally changing who I was and how I thought about life. It had been non-stop days engulfed in God’s miracles. 
I could hardly take in all that was happening. 

Dreams that had yet to be dreamt for this family seemed to be part of the possibility of their next…
I couldn’t believe that I was along for the ride to witness it all. 
My son and his wife- and their army of families have prayed for over a decade for some hope…

Ten years…
In truth…
Is not too long…
To receive hope…

It’s the kind of hope that is truly only available through faith in Jesus Christ, and His Father, our Heavenly Father. 
It’s the idea of hope that is followed with faithful steps of enduring the hardest of hard days void of anger or frustration toward God.
It is hope- while knowing God’s perfect love and wisdom is always the best plan for our lives, despite our lens to see. 
This is the type of faith and hope that Bry and Jodi flooded their lives with. It’s who they are. 

Every conversation I witnessed that week between these two exemplary people, my son and his warrior wife, was soaked in hope.

-JC

Butterfinger Cookies

1 cup soft butter
½ cup oil
1 ¾ cups DARK brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 ½ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup milk chocolate chips
1 ½ cups butterscotch chips
1 ½ cups chopped Butterfinger Candy Bar pieces

Cream butter, oil  and brown sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high for 2 minutes or until well blended. Hand stir in eggs and vanilla extract ; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Stir in chips and Butterfinger pieces. Scoop out approximately 32 balls of dough. Gently roll and flatten slightly. Refrigerate or freeze before baking for the smoothest texture.  Place on greased or parchment paper lined aluminum cookie sheet.  
Bake at 375 degrees for 12+ min. 
Drizzle the tops with Butterscotch Fudge.
Let set. Share!

Butterscotch Fudge
½ cup butterscotch chips
½ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 tablespoon coconut oil

Melt ingredients in a microwave safe bowl for thirty seconds, or until soft. Stir until smooth. Spoon into a freezer strength Ziploc and use while still warm.

Jodi was over five hours into her “nap” (with the aid of anesthesia).

My mind wandered to hope for the future for my son and his wife— for better days of health and more easily available happiness through the ease of living with less pain and discomfort. 

At Bry’s lead—
We headed back to the waiting room in the neurological surgery wing.  
A short time later—
The surgeon emerged. 
I silently watched as my son greeted him and took in the update. 
These were just words to Bry…
I heard that the surgery was deemed successful and that through 3D imaging they didn’t have to cut into the brain to the degree they initially expected. 

Bry took in the message. But to him— These reassuring words were just that. 
He wanted to see Jodi. He needed to see Jodi. 
I was amazed by and grateful to witness his love for her. 

The neurosurgeon had completed his portion of the surgery—
But Jodi needed to be stitched up and cleaned up. 
It would be another hour before they took her into recovery. The wait continued. 

Bry opened his laptop and put himself back to work. 

As a kid, my parents taught me to work. 
My husband and I, in turn, taught our kids to work. 
No one can out-work them. 
They didn’t always like it. 

When the boys were in middle school, we bought a 2½  acre parcel of land and had a house built on it. 
Over the next six years, we had 80 tons of landscape rock delivered. 
The rock was large (4-6 inch diameter) of black basalt rock. 
It was pretty—
But you couldn’t shovel it. I had boys… not men, yet…
Teenage boys who began a bit undersized.
Each rock had to be placed by hand—
First onto a saucer connected to a rope. 
A saucer full of rocks would then be dragged to its location somewhere on the 2½  acre lot. It was then carefully dumped and nestled around the plants. The process was repeated countless times. Hours each weekend we “did rocks”. Gatorades and pizza flowed freely. 
It was a lot of work- mostly silent work. There was little instruction. It was simply an exercise in physical grit and mental toughness. 

I’m grateful we didn’t have the money to hire the job out. 
My oldest would often say “No one I know has to work this hard on the weekend!”  
He didn’t mean it as a compliment. Sometimes I felt bad. 
Except that my husband and I, and our young daughter (as long as she’d last) worked right along with them. They were not sent to work alone. We worked hard— together, as a family. 

So it’s not too surprising to see my kids turn to and lean into work…
They know its value—
Physically, mentally, and even spiritually—
It’s how you grow, and how you get done what you set your mind to do. 

Lets explore this idea in regards to spiritual work.

A few days ago, I did a hike that was familiar. It’s the one I often hiked a few years ago when I was going through a bit of a struggle with God. I was driven and relentless in chasing down a specific answer from Him.
I worked to earn the answer-
I tightened up my spirituality where I felt like I could put forth no greater effort in being eligible to receive God’s guidance in my life.

God was silent.
I felt like I was undeserving of His silence.
I tightened my efforts, repented of pride, distractions, and faithless moments, and tried again.

I tried again. And again. And again.

Why was God holding out on me?
I thought we had a pretty good working agreement and track record.
He tells me the path to take.
I take it.
And yet–
I was ready to move in any direction, pivot from any expected path…
I was seeking something from God-
Anything…
And there was nothing…

I was reminded of a lesson I had been taught by God—
His timing is part of His plan.
In fact, it’s likely the most important part when it comes to each of us and our individual progression.
Spiritual work is a discipline in understanding God’s will.
Begging for an answer and even feeling like I’ve worked to be deserving isn’t the spiritual work I need to do.

The work is connecting with God—
-Understanding who I am as His daughter
-Understanding my purpose in Him.
Efforts to seek direction when God’s timing isn’t in line with my desire for an answer usually lead to frustration.

Working to connect with God leads to peace, feeling His love, and increased patience in understanding His will and His timing.

What I’m being told today is to be deliberate. There’s no specific course of action. Only that God is telling me to be deliberate in my decision-making. Again, the work involves connecting with God versus seeking a specific answer in a specific direction. When I connect with him, perhaps I am able to better understand what he needs me to do without being told exactly what that looks like.

That feels like leveling up 😉

Sometimes it’s hard to be told by God what to do because it seems like a hard ask.
Sometimes even harder to do it.
But in my experience, it’s even harder when God simply tells me to be deliberate in my decision-making and isn’t giving me the “out” with an answer at that juncture.

It’s a level of spiritual work.
I endorse it.
I applaud it.
But living it-
I’m working on finding the joy…

During Jodi’s surgery, Bry distracted himself with work, until the surgical coordinator returned to the waiting room confirming Jodi was in recovery. She would be sent to the neurological intensive care unit-
Room 7326.
Bry was told to give them some time to get her settled and then he could meet her there. 
He went straight to the room. Our walk took us past nearly every room in the intensive care unit…
It was sobering to see so many people…so sick…
Before long, a CNA chased us out and told us to give them time to get Jodi hooked up to the wires, monitors, and connections that they needed to care for her. 

Ten minutes later, the same CNA came and retrieved us from the waiting room and brought us back to Room 7326.
It was there that I witnessed the sweetest post-surgery reunion. 
If love can help heal…
Jodi was in the best hands possible…

-JC

Toasted Coconut cookie Bars

1 cup soft butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon coconut extract
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour 
1 cup quick oats, blended to powder form
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 ½ cups toasted coconut (I prefer sweetened), divided
1.5 oz. grated milk chocolate bar
1 ½ cups chocolate chips
½ cup mini chocolate chips

Cream butter and sugars with an electric mixer on medium high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and extracts; don’t over mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Gently stir in 1 ½ cups toasted coconut, grated chocolate bar, and 1 ½ cups chocolate chips. Sprinkle 1 cup toasted coconut into the bottom of a 9” x 13” greased or parchment paper lined aluminum baking pan. Spoon cookie dough on top and gently pat down. Sprinkle the top with remaining ½ cup toasted coconut and ½ cup mini chocolate chips.  Bake at 350 degrees for 40+ minutes, or until the center is set.
Let cool. Cut into squares. Share!

While spending time in Arizona this past year, I’ve come to know an army of amazing women. 
In the months where cold winds blow in the lands we emerge from, we gather on the pickleball courts three days a week to serve, dink, and drop-shot our way to victory or defeat. 
But the truth is—
At the end of the day—
The win/loss tally doesn’t matter. We come to connect with each other. We learn about each other’s careers, children, hopes, and even despair. 

Each one of these women has a story…
There is faith, fortitude, and fear entangled in them all. We hail from areas all over North America…
‘Home’ is often hundreds of miles away…every spring, we return “home” with the promise to gather again  when cool fall breezes blow, chasing us to the desert. 
As we converge in the land of cacti and desert sun on a striped court, we deepen our connection as women. 
I could see that these women were some of the greatest blessings of my life. I was introduced to them at a time when I needed hope and healing. I love that this is how God saw fit to bless me.  

God has often blessed me with great friends. 

At the age of five, a new best friend moved next door. Throughout the early years, she was with me daily— at school, and at play. One summer, Mom moved our bedrooms around and my window faced hers. From the second story, we chatted across the rooftops at night—about anything and everything. 

Fifty years later, I still recognize that God places incredible women in my life. I learn from them, unite with them, and understand life better as we share experiences unique to each of us. 
It’s a web that has woven us together as a collective group. We aren’t meant to travel the journeys of our earth life alone. I’m grateful for the people I meet along any given path— 
They help me see who I need to be. 

At countless crossroads over the years in seasons of hard and heartache—
God places a new friend in my path. I only try to recognize the strength gleaned as I look in the rearview mirror of the experience. 
The choice to reach out in friendship or take an outstretched hand toward me is always mine to navigate. 

When our family moved to Pennsylvania, I, as a sophomore in high school, I struggled to leave my best friend from next door.  It dramatically felt like my parents were ruining my life. My new school was so different in every way from where I came. 
One of the first days, I had a note passed to me in class. 
It said-
“We took a vote and decided you could join our clique.
Do you want to?”

YES   NO

Clearly, I was expected to circle my answer and send it back. 
My heart raced. I didn’t even know what this meant.
If I joined this clique—
What were the expectations…?
Were these my only friends?
On one hand—at least I would have a group to eat lunch with…
That had been the hardest part of my first few weeks as a new kid…
No one feels more lost than a new kid at lunch time. 
That lonely feeling of not belonging screams as you scan the cafeteria looking for anywhere to sit that might feel welcoming. 
It’s literally the most brutal feeling. 

I sat with my note open on my desk, for most of the class. I didn’t know this girl— or her friends. But I was desperate for friendship. 
Towards the end of class, 
I circled the blank space in between YES and NO, quickly passed it back, and dashed out of class as soon as the bell rang. 

The ache of wanting to belong— wasn’t just with anyone…
It was with the right someones…
That felt like an innate truth to my spirit. 

At this same time in high school,
I was grappling with what I believed in spiritually. 
Many of my teachers at church seemed very boring as they read from the lesson manuals each week. 
My parents engaged us in reading scriptures together as a family—
But I dreaded that too. 

I felt a bit lost. 
Lost in friendship—
Lost to God.
A degree of despair followed. 

I wasn’t ready to grow my spirituality, or turn to my family for connection. 
So I went all-in with my sports teams. 
It was track season…
God blessed me with a running mate and—with a lens of hindsight—a dear friend. 
He knew what I needed to feel safe enough to—
In time— 
Work more to connect with Him. 

On the day of my daughter-in-law’s surgery, I turned to my phone to distract me during the six-hour wait. Bry had settled into a project on his laptop, teaching himself how to code. He was mentally engaged so as to not spend his day in stress and turmoil. 

I texted with family and friends, including my army of pickleball women from Mesa, Arizona.  God had placed these people in my life. There felt to be a bit of strength in unity. 

At one point, I got up to stretch my legs. I wandered into the hospital chapel. It was empty. I looked around acknowledging these walls had encompassed many in depths of desperation in prayer, searching for hope. 
My heart ached for those whose prayers seemed to linger in the rows of pews they were uttered in. 
I know God hears all of our prayers for help. But I also know— sometimes we don’t get the miracle we plead for…

I’ve worked to gain some truths about God:
Always…We can feel His love to the degree we seek it…
With Him, we always belong. 
He welcomes us— no matter where we are in our duty to serve Him. 
Our worth to Him is not predicated on anything we do or don’t do. 

We are never lost to God…
We are His…
He is ours…
Always.

-JC

Caramel Stuffed Browned Butter Chocolate Chunk Cookies

1 cups butter, browned, chilled back to solid form
¾  cup granulated sugar
1 ¼ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour 
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon cornstarch
¾ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups dark chocolate chunks
½ cup grated dark chocolate 

Additional ingredients:
14 oz pre-made soft caramels

Mix together cooled browned butter and sugars with an electric mixer on medium high for 1+ minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and vanilla extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Stir in chocolate chunks and grated chocolate. Scoop out approximately 24 2” balls of dough.  Stuff with pre-made caramels (I used 14 oz of pre-made caramels in 24 cookies.) Gently roll. Fatten cookie dough discs slightly and refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake.  Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet. Sprinkle with sea salt flakes. Bake at 385 degrees for 12+ min. 
Let set. Share!

I don’t know God’s rules for how He chooses to hand out miracles…
I wish I understood better. 

My son, daughter-in-law, and I arrived in Colorado after a few flight delays due to storms. 
My sister picked us up and we headed to dinner. Unfortunately, the blizzard hit a bit early and we were caught in it as we climbed the hills to her home. 
She was steady. 
It was a white-out. 
I felt bad that I had somehow put her in this situation. She and I are both fair-weather drivers…
I prayed for our safety hoping I wasn’t “using up” too many of God’s allotted blessings for me. 
I needed them all for the next day…

Again-
I’m sure that’s not how exactly how God works…😉

The mysteries of God-
Truly, the unknowns that cannot be explained. 
How does He choose whom to and when to help?

I see everyday the effects of living in a fallen world. 
I see seemingly senseless suffering. 
I see faithful people fall into grief from prayers yet to be answered. 

I believe in ‘God knowing everything for everyone’. 
But it’s hard to sort through the pain of His timing and His perfect love and how that brings joy to some and pain to others. 

I could get lost in the questions. 
It’s ‘trending’ that so many seem to choose the questions over the answers…
How we sort through it with our imperfect mortal minds can send us on a trajectory that may or may not serve us well. 

When my boys were little, we had a couple of toy chests in their room. 
We also had several plastic containers on their closet shelf.  
Sometimes, I would enter the room, which should have been marked with caution tape, and attempt to organize the chaos. 

One particular day, I remember clearly.
The boys were summoned to help me. 
We sat around the pile of dumped out toys in the room and attempted to organize it.
I realized we saw the task differently. 

My brain saw-
Legos
Batman figures
Matchbox cars
Blocks
Train set 
Books….

Distinct groups of toys. 
Each could be placed with their own kind and tucked neatly into size appropriate containers. 

The boys-
They saw an interlocking kingdom. 
All of these pieces worked together to become platforms, and planets, and heroes, and transportation, and buildings, and forts, and fortresses…
They were all together. Not separate. 
I could spend all day “sorting through” their toys to restore order…
But they didn’t  play with the same variables of order as I saw. 
I was reminded that all things work together in the playroom for the good and the imagination of any who choose to engage.

Riding in the backseat of my sister’s car as she calmly drove us down the driveway to her home amidst a snow storm-
I wondered how God sorted through when He sees fit to grant the pleadings of our hearts and when He has to say “not this time…”

The truth is-
My mortal mind doesn’t (get to) know that answer. 
But my spirit can choose to connect with God.

I can choose to feel His perfect love for me all of the time.
I can work to understand that my brain can try and sort all I want…

But in God’s kingdom-
Everything works together for our “good”…

It’s a “good” we can’t always understand. 
It’s a “good” that often hurts or feels chaotic.
It’s a “good” that can only be seen by eyes drenched in faith. 
And by a heart amplified with hope…

We can choose-
To lean into God, choose to pray— not knowing how those prayers will be answered…
Or to pull away from Him…
Letting doubt, reason, and some version of reality rule our mind…

I laid in a warm bed in my sister’s beautiful home-
I was safe. 
I felt at peace. 
I uttered a prayer of gratitude and a special request that Bry and Jodi could continue to identify God’s miracles and His “good” in their lives.  

My alarm was set for 4 am…

-JC

S’mores Bites

Graham Mixture:
1 cup crushed graham crackers
¼ cup powdered sugar
Dash of salt
6 tablespoons melted butter

Additional ingredients:
10 standard size marshmallows cut into half
3 ½  (1.55oz) milk chocolate Hershey Bars

Stir together graham crackers, powdered sugar and salt. Add melted butter and mix until mixture has a consistent texture.
Spray mini muffin tins with baking spray. Spoon in a scant Tablespoon of the Graham Mixture and gently press it down into 20 mini muffin cups.
Bake at 350 degrees for 7 minutes.
Remove from the oven and add a small chocolate square to each tin.  Top with ½ of a standard sized marshmallow. Broil in the oven for a few seconds until marshmallow tops are toasted.
Melt remaining Hershey Bars in a freezer strength Ziploc and drizzle the tops.
Let set. Share!

Jodi’s surgeon was confident he could help her. 
The path to get there was outlined-
Brain surgery was scheduled in Denver, Colorado.
Plans and accommodations were contrived.

There were more unknowns than not as to what to expect. 
Simply put—
We needed a miracle. 
But we had needed one for some time…
God was in control now, as ever.  We managed the logistics-  
Details were lined up to receive the pleadings of our hearts and prayers we had uttered for so long. 

Would THIS be the answer…?
Only time would tell. 

I left the Arizona property on the market in great hands with a top-notch realtor and flew to Utah ahead of meeting Bry and Jodi in Colorado. 
I checked the boxes of tasks there in Utah and delighted in time with the grandkids.

I scheduled a lunch date with my four-year-old granddaughter. She was getting older, more independent, and more amazing in her strength and fortitude. 
We left Chick-fil-A after a delightful lunch date. My granddaughter was chattering about all the things circling in her mind.
I giggled to myself as she shared the random comings and goings of her preschool class. As we stepped into the parking lot from the curb of the sidewalk. I quietly interrupted her with a “ Hands, Hands, Fingers, Thumbs…”   She clutched my hand. She knew the routine and the expectation. I wanted to freeze time. 
She wouldn’t always want to clasp my hand. She was growing up right before my eyes and stretching autonomy by the day. 

I gave her small hand a gentle squeeze as she continued her one-way conversation. 
I simply took it all in—
Every little random thought she shared…

We came back to the house. It was an atypically nice day in March and so we headed to the backyard. 
She explained to me the rules of the “game”.  The turf was hot lava. We obviously couldn’t touch it. So I placed patio furniture every which way so she could hop from piece to piece to get from the patio to the trampoline. 
I quickly came to understand the trampoline was actually an ice rink…
(Of course.)
She showed me her routine complete with jumps and twirls. 
With her imagination — we could be anywhere— doing anything….
It was freeing…
This is exactly what happiness looks and feels like…
I wanted to imprint the feeling and experience in my mind.

As I engaged with her in imaginative play—
There was stillness in my mind. 
There were no concerns about the dangers and possible complications of surgery. 
No stress—
No anxiety—
No fear—
Just joy…
The “joy in your posterity” as promised by God. 

It was available only upon quieting the noise of the unknown and focusing completely and wholly on the beauty of the now…
That’s God’s way. 
We get to choose what we take on…
What we allow to block His light and love.
Or-
We get to choose to open our hearts and minds to it. 
We get to choose what we silence…
What we hold onto…
And what we let go of. 

I was seeing exactly the work it took to get “there”.  I was grateful for a granddaughter teaching me how to find joy on a random day in March ahead of a potentially life-changing scenario awaiting me a few zip codes away. 

I lingered as long as I could and then caught a flight to Colorado. 

-JC

Frosted Sugar Cookies

¾ cup soft butter
3 tablespoons sour cream
¼ cup vegetable oil
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup powdered sugar
2 eggs
¼ teaspoon coconut extract (optional)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 ½ cups flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
¾ teaspoon baking soda
¾  teaspoon salt

Cream butter, sour cream, oil, and sugars with an electric mixer on medium-high for 2 minutes or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and extracts; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Scoop out approximately 24 balls of dough. Gently roll and slightly flatten dough balls. Chill for 3 hours.
Place on a greased or parchment paper lined aluminum cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 11+ min. Let cool completely. Pipe swirls with Buttercream Frosting.
Let set. Share!

Buttercream Frosting
1 cup soft butter
3 ½ cups powdered sugar
2 tablespoons heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon coconut extract (optional)
Pinch of salt
Food coloring (optional)

Mix together butter and powdered sugar. Stir in cream, extracts, salt, and food coloring. Continue mixing on medium-high speed for 3 minutes. Spoon into gallon size freezer strength Ziploc until ready to use. 

I found a lounger in the shade.
It was a quiet day at the community pool with outside temperatures soaring past 108 degrees.
The palm trees surrounding the bougie resort-style pool slapped quietly in the desert breezes. The air was hot and dry—
Just like I like it…

And again-
The thoughts circled me—
That a year ago—
I could have never imagined that “THIS” is where I’d be…

I felt immense peace and gratitude. I can’t even begin to imagine the degree of the details that God had woven through the years of my son and his warrior wife. 
But truly—
They had each been prepared for this journey well before they met. 

When my son, Bry, was two…
I was hosting a church youth group at our home while my husband was away on a business trip. 
The boys (2 and 4) were both in the next room as I led the girls through their evening activity. 
At one point—
Bry came around the corner from the kitchen…
He was soaked in red juice. 
He held up two tiny red stained socks and in toddler tone and slight jibberish said –
“My socks are wet…” 
The group of girls giggled as I excused myself and led Bry back to the kitchen. I rounded the same corner from where he had just come—
The refrigerator doors were wide open. My toddler had somehow secured the pitcher of juice from the top shelf by methods no mom wants to imagine.  It was now sitting on the floor having been partially spilled. 
I asked him if he needed a drink. 
His bright blue eyes lit up as he nodded “yes”. 
He was an independent problem solver from a very young age. I had to learn to let him test the limits of what I thought he should or could do. I learned to get out of his way and watch him explore the world in ways I couldn’t necessarily see it…

His wife, Jodi, has had her own preparations for her own faith-filled journey to get to the threshold of this latest chapter in their story as a family. 
Years of questions, frustrations, and unsolved lists of symptoms have dotted her path. 
Bry tirelessly worked to research the problem and answer the question of whom to find to help Jodi return to better health. Jodi worked to keep fighting…
Lots of prayers…
Lots of details….
Lots of first this— then that’s…
Lots of God making more out of the small things than any of us can on our own…

And then-
A specialist was found—
Medical records were submitted as an application—
An appointment was scheduled with an unfortunate hefty period of wait—
Miracles were prayed for…

Then-
A surgeon reviewed Jodi’s scans—
He acknowledged the severity and degree of complication—
But simply asked her—
“How you’re living—
It’s not sustainable, is it…?
I can help you.”

And so marked the beginning a of a new miraculous chapter—
And I’ve been privileged to tag along for the ride. 
I’ve seen what God can do…
…After more than a decade of seemingly unanswered prayers…

-JC

Signature Fudge Brownies 

1 cup melted butter
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup dark cocoa powder
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup dark brown sugar
4 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup of flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 ¼ cups chopped chocolate pieces

Mix together melted butter, oil and dark cocoa powder. Stir in sugars and eggs, and vanilla extract. Beat with an electric mixer until smooth and shiny. Stir in flour, salt and chocolate pieces. Stir until combined.
Spray a 9” x 13” pan with baking spray. Spoon brownie batter into pan and spread out evenly. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
Let cool completely. Frost with Fudge Frosting. Garnish as desired.
Let set. Share!

Fudge Frosting
Melt together in the microwave-
A 14 oz. can of sweetened condensed milk
1 ½ cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
Dash of salt

Stir until smooth.
Stir in-
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ cup (Hershey’s) chocolate syrup

Every Saturday in the Littlefield household from the ages of 5 to 15 seemed to be the same. 
Carpenters music would blare from the speakers of the vinyl record console in the living room. I didn’t care for their music- I found it to be depressing. 
Nevertheless- I had every word of every song memorized and I sang aloud with the rest of my sisters and Mom as we did our Saturday chores. 

One of the chores, in rotation, was that three of us would be assigned each week to make a large batch of 5 loaves of bread. 
We’d push chairs up against the kitchen cabinets to be tall enough to knead downward over our industrial-sized metal bowls. 
Most weeks that job was simply part of my chores. 
Mom had taught each of us the proper techniques. 
In bread making, our final task was to shape each loaf before placing it in the pan. 
We were taught to roll the dough into a large rectangle, begin with one shorter side, and tightly roll the loaf. We tucked each end under working to make sure the loaf was even and uniform in size. 
We would then place it in its metal baking dish and call Mom into the kitchen to sign off on our loaves before she took the baton and finished the baking process. 

She enforced the importance of the SHAPE. 
The shape would indicate how well the bread would bake and how thus the resulting finished product. The shape would determine whether the bread would have air bubbles baked throughout it making it difficult to serve as sandwich bread. This bread fed our large family. Sandwiches were packed every day for school. When a loaf wasn’t rolled and shaped correctly, it would result in peanut butter or honey seeping through creating difficulty at the lunch table. 

Shape absolutely determined the outcome. 

I recently heard the question-
What one decision has most shaped my life?

When I heard this question, 
I immediately saw the scene play out again in my mind. I was 17…
I had stopped at the concrete basketball court where I had spent many summer nights the previous year playing in a non-high school-sanctioned basketball league. 
I played my best basketball there. 
It was just a group of girls from school- 
No coaches, no fans, and no parents to watch. 
Just me, the ball, and my favorite teammates. 

It was there that I became my best version of a basketball player. I played with my heart, for the love of the game. 
It was on this upward trajectory that I entered my senior season. 
It wasn’t long before the letters began arriving at the house. At first, they seemed special so I kept the first few. Then they arrived at a more rapid pace. I deemed them ordinary and just tossed them. 
I thought everyone got them…
I didn’t know or understand any level of their significance until a college coach followed her letter with a phone call. 
Coach called every week for the rest of my senior basketball season. 
We talked about basketball and life. I looked forward to her calls. I felt seen and heard. 
She asked me to come play for her. 
Other offers were at more prestigious colleges with better programs and larger fan bases. 
But I liked her and so I agreed to come to play ball for her. 

A few months later, I was at church. After class, I was asked to come into a room where my parents and leaders expressed concern for my college decision. 
I left that meeting angry- very angry and drove straight to that concrete basketball court. 

I was alone that Sunday afternoon. 
I talked with God. 
I told him I didn’t need the support of my parents or anyone from
Church. 
I told Him I knew I could play and that all I needed was His vote and His blessing on my decision. 
I waited.

Until I knew-

I needed to pivot. 

With complete peace, surety, and sadness, I called Coach when I got home. 
I don’t understand all of the reasons or perhaps any of them as to why playing basketball for Allegheny College wasn’t the best course for me. 
I simply had exact knowledge from God himself that it wasn’t. 
I didn’t have a strong testimony of Christ, modern-day prophets or their revelations. 

I only had God. 

And it was enough. 
Since then- I’ve searched for a greater understanding of my Savior, his personal role, and the accompanying blessings He can bring to my life. 
I’ve searched for understanding with faith in modern-day prophets and their place in religion. 
Testimonies of such have been deepened and understandings have received enlightenment as I prayed to the God I know for answers. 

The defining moment to pivot-
To trust God-
And then to lean into the knowledge of Him proved important. 
My next few years were not filled with baskets or championships but instead- hard days, hungry days, and more questions than answers. 

It was then, and continues to be today, the decision that shaped the resulting trajectory of my life-
The ability, belief, and knowledge to talk with God. 
To tell Him, to ask Him, and to listen to Him…

Peace and joy now accompany me as I journey. Peace that is made available through Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 
I understand Him. And I understand Them. I also better understood their uncompromising love for me. 

So as I look back on my memories of the scene at the concrete basketball court- I’m grateful. 
No regrets on a life that became one of searching to better understand God-
His purposes, and my purpose with Him. 

-JC

Chocolate Cream Pie

1 pre-packaged or homemade 9″ Oreo crust
___
12 oz. softened cream cheese
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup soft butter
12 oz. homemade whipped cream or Cool Whip

Melt chocolate chips and still until smooth. Set aside to cool. Beat together cream cheese, sugar, and butter until creamy. Fold in chocolate. Fold in whipping cream or Cool Whip. Spoon chocolate cream mixture into Oreo crust. Chill thoroughly for 6 hours or a few hours in the freezer. Garnish with chocolate glaze, syrup or hot fudge sauce as desired.
Share!

The neighborhood games of hide and seek when I was a kid were epic. 
Most evenings of the summer we’d play games with the neighborhood kids and hide and seek was a favorite. There were few fences. Neighbors’ properties blended from one to another creating endless physical boundaries to roam, run, and play. 
Each evening, the parameters would be set-
Deciding whose lawns were in bounds or out. And then a little rhyme determined first to seek and the game was in motion. 

My common hiding spot was lying beneath the leaves of the potato plants in our backyard garden. Being undersized had its advantages as I laid still between the rows of maturing plants. 
I was near the central “base” and could hear what was happening with the game. 
The only opportunity cost-
That it was a bit itchy. 😉

I could hear counting….
Then “Ready or not, here I come!”
Then silence as the person “it” began to run across several connecting properties looking for someone to tag. As soon as they ran passed my fortress of leaves, 
I would check to see if anyone else was running to base so as to not divulge my hiding spot. 
When the path was clear, I’d run to claim freedom of not getting tagged. 
I usually got there first. 

The fun-filled images of playing this game have circled back lately as I ask myself-
“Why does my discipleship matter?”

My answer begins with the tagline from our childhood game, but I envision it as though the Savior is saying-
“Ready or not, here I come.”
We’ve been promised of His return in scriptures from ancient and modern-day prophets. 

A few years ago I was on a (less formal) airline flight. The flight attendant was diligent in presenting the safety briefing. At the end, in the seemingly same rehearsed dialogue, he added-
“And these safety procedures apply to those paying attention as well as to those who are not.”
A few quips of laughter scattered the plane- likely from the few who were still listening to him at the end of the safety briefing. 

The invitations to prepare for Christ’s returning are the same- 
Call them warnings, prophecies, or encouragement to action. 
Christ is returning-
To those paying attention and to those who are not. 
He is coming again to earth-
“Ready or not…”

So I’m asking myself “What do I need to do to better prepare…?”

The answer includes discipleship with greater effort. 
To seek the one-
To see the one-
And then to commit to-
Be the one-
Who loves as He did. 

I know I’ve been a bit lazy. I’ve been hiding as though there are potato leaves giving me coverage from being seen and asked to help. 
And where does that leave me?
Mostly lonely with a hint of lazy. 

Those two components might win a round of hide and seek-
But they won’t lead me to being ready to meet my Savior again knowing I’ve done all I can to help prepare the world for His return. 

So today is a recommit-
To try a little harder to be a little better. 
Better in my discipleship-
Better in my love for my brothers and sisters-
Better in study, effort, and commitment. 

I want to be ready and rejoice when I hear the Savior proclaim-
“Here I come…”

“Here I am…”

-JC

Banana Cake Bars

Nilla Wafer Crumble
Crush 11oz. of Nilla Wafers. Mix with 6 Tablespoons melted butter and ½ teaspoon salt. Reserve ⅔ cup mixture. Spread the rest evenly into the bottom of a 9”x13” baking pan. 
Bake the reserved ⅔ cup wafer mixture at 350 degrees for 8 minutes to make a baked crumble.

Make the Banana Cake batter:
½ cup soft butter
1 ½ cups granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 cup sour cream
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
3 medium ripe bananas, smashed

Cream butter with sugar on medium-high mixer for 2 minutes. Stir in eggs, sour cream and vanilla.  Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until well combined.  Stir in mashed bananas.
Spoon Banana Cake batter over Nilla Wafer crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 45+ minutes or until done.  Let cool completely. Frost with Cream Cheese Frosting. Sprinkle with baked Nilla Wafer Crumble.
Let set. Share!

Cream Cheese Frosting
8 ounces softened cream cheese
½  cup soft butter
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 Tablespoons whipping cream
3 cups powdered sugar
Dash of salt

Mix cream cheese and butter until smooth. Stir in cinnamon. Add vanilla extract, whipping cream, powdered sugar, and salt. Mix until fluffy. 

I’ve found a new hill to climb in Arizona. The remodeling work of my project is done so I’ve got a lotta extra time on my hands. 

Walking is fine. 
But climbing is symbolic. 
It hits differently. 

Sometimes I listen to an audible book or country music’s latest hits as I navigate the dusty and rocky trail. But always-
I talk with God. 
Somedays, I feel peace about my course forward in the waiting. On other days, I feel the energy towards the steps of work God wants me to do.
Any effort to better understand God is a bit of a stretch, a bit of a climb- where discomfort is left behind and my faith, like my breath, needs steadying. 

As a junior in high school, my PE teacher, Ms. Ritter, was strict but kind.  She was small in stature, however, we all learned quickly always to respect her and never underestimate her.
On the first day of class, we walked into the gym and saw a rope hanging from the ceiling. 
I had volleyball practice in the same gym the day before and there was no rope. 
Somehow-
Someone got a big tall something and hung that awful rope. 

Ms Ritter had a stopwatch in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She told us she would time each of us as we climbed up the rope, hit the flag at the top, and maneuvered back down. 
A few guys were called to go first. 
They did okay. 
Then she called my name. 
I looked at her. She nodded as if to say “You can do it.” 
I borrowed her belief in me and grabbed the rope. 
I moved my bottom hand over my top and nothing happened. 
My body wouldn’t and couldn’t ascend the rope. I held on as long as possible and tried again to climb the rope. 

Nothing. 
Absolutely nothing. 
I just couldn’t do it. 

Sometimes I feel like my ability to climb hypothetical mountains in life mirrors my ability to climb that rope in PE. 
Sometimes no matter how much I want to borrow a belief that things will get better-
They don’t seem to. 

As I’ve stood back, looking in the rearview mirror of certain circumstances, I can see more clearly. 
When God asks me, or any of us, to traverse a path, He never says it will be easy-
But I’ve learned that journeying alone is a choice. 

I’ve been blessed over the past few years as I’ve watched my kids navigate the seemingly impossible hard – that they are not alone. 
I’ve come to learn that we exist in the midst of angels. 
When we face the hardest of hard, when all of our strength to climb gets us nowhere-
We are not alone. 
I am absolutely certain that we have not been left alone to climb. 

The day the rope hung in my high school gym- only one kid made it to the top. Ms Ritter assured us our progress would not be recorded as any letter grade affecting our GPA.  She just wanted to see our effort. 

I know God grades me the same way. He doesn’t need me to reach a certain destination. He needs me to lean into my belief in Him and give Him effort. 
God needs me to know that angels are here. We are in the midst of them. 
We are not alone. 
We are not left alone as we climb. 

God still asks us to climb. 
On the days we can’t move-
When all of our efforts are exhausted-
We are never alone. 

His angels surround us. 
They watch over us. 
They stand by us, sit with us, and hold us. 
It’s one of the perfect ways God loves us.  I’m grateful for the hard that has allowed me to know this-
To feel this-
And to “see” this…

I would climb any mountain and give all my effort for resolution for my kids’ hardest of hard. 
But this is not the way God works. 
So instead- I lean into God’s promises. I believe in good things to come and In the meantime,  I’m working a bit harder to “see” heaven cheering them on. 
-JC

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cheesecake Brownies

Make a brownie mix (approximately 15+ oz.) as directed and bake in a parchment lined or greased 8” x 8” baking pan for 30+ minutes or until done. Let cool completely. Evenly spread on the Peanut Butter Cheesecake Filling. Top with cut up Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and drizzles of ¼ cup melted peanut butter and 1.5 oz. of a melted milk chocolate bar. Refrigerate until serving. Share!

Peanut Butter Cheesecake Filling
8 oz. softened cream cheese
¾ cup creamy peanut butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup powdered sugar
Dash of salt
8 oz. thawed Cool Whip (or homemade whipping cream)

Mix cream cheese and peanut butter together until well blended. Stir in vanilla extract. Add powdered sugar and salt and mix on high for 3 minutes. Fold in thawed Cool Whip.