Cookies and Christ

Two years ago as we pondered yet another move to a new zip code, naturally the house hunting included easy access to an open walking trail. 
It’s where I go daily to talk with God. It’s what I need. 
Some may say the miles I step justify my sweet tooth and insatiable need for chicken tenders and french fries. 
They aren’t wrong. 

But the greatest value is clarity in thought and literally receiving my assignments from God. 
The ducks have flown south for the winter. 
I know- because I’m south and they are here. 
The irrigation canal I walk along is full of them. 

Years ago I sought motivation for a good run by racing a duck only to feel an unfair defeat when it took flight. I noted then and have referenced countless times since that it was simply and completely using its resources. 

“Use your resources” is one of my favorite phrases to ponder. 
I see God placing different ones and people in my path constantly. I’m working harder to identify how to better my life, align my will with God’s and thrive during hard seasons. 

I’ve learned to pray for the discerning use of my resources. 

Today I’m walking along the irrigation canal observing ducks. Thinking about an important lesson learned decades ago. 
I’m feeling a nudge to take a leap of faith. 
I feel like God has inscribed resources in my mind, and is beckoning me to share what He’s taught me. 

My happiness does not lay claim in a certain zip code or with certain people- even those I love most.  I’ve learned exactly where happiness can be found…everyday.
I’ve learned with greater surety who I am as a daughter of God and what that means for my life.
I’ve learned how to have perfect knowledge of my path forward. 
I’ve learned how to ask myself the right questions and how to size up my answers. 
I’ve learned how to tell God the truth and more fully understand how to access the strength and help available through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. 
I’ve learned to embrace the changes that healing brings, complete with an understanding that restoration to an imperfect version of myself will never be what God will bless me with.  
I’ve worked to “see” through a more eternal lens what healing looks like. 
I’ve learned to love the climb up any mountain and through any storm. 
I’ve realized the price to pay to stroll with Deity is always a bargain. 
I’ve learned to ask for the angels-seen and unseen to travel with me. 
I’ve learned to assess progress and be honest with the work I’m doing and where gaps in progression lie. 

And then there are days where I seem to forget everything I’ve learned. I feel weak, incapable of continuing, frustrated with myself and God’s timeline. 
In those times, I work to remember what I’ve learned about how to forgive myself for falling short and how to get up when I fall. 

These are my greatest resources to understanding who I am as a daughter of God and the everyday joy in the journey associated with that. 

As I walk today, I’m not racing ducks. I know better than to waste time and energy wishing for the resources available only to others. But my head is up- contemplating the mountains in the distance. My stride is quick and sure. My resolve is faith -riddled with only a bit of fear- that I am fully committing to let go of….
Soon…
Very soon…

-JC

Funfetti Cookie Dough Balls

1 cup soft butter
1 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups flour (bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes, then sift, and cool)
½ teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons milk
¼ cup sprinkles

Mix butter and sugar on high for 1 minute.  Stir in vanilla extract. Stir in flour and salt. Mix in milk. Stir until well blended. Fold in sprinkles.  Form 24 dough balls. Freeze for 30 minutes. Dip into melted white candy discs one at a time and immediately add a few sprinkles to the top. 
Let set. Share. 

Our high school track team was good… really good. Several individual performers stood out in sprints and jumps. Our relay teams were also consistently top placers….
I was often assigned to run in the distance medley relay. 

It was stressful…

Not because I was a poor performer….
I understood my assignment: Take the baton and maintain the lead for two laps. 
The stress was in the handoff. 
Coach stressed the importance of not dropping it so many times, over and over, I was semi-convinced it must be slippery. 

My three teammates collectively ran the first two laps…
Then it was my turn. I was simply expected to take the baton and run.  

My first race with my teammates filled me with a crazy amount of adrenaline. 
They were all older, more confident, and more experienced than I. 
I assumed they lived exciting lives... 

I didn’t. 
My Saturdays were filled with family time and chores. I was the second oldest of six kids. I had a lot of responsibilities to do my part and help my younger siblings. 
I didn’t usually love the weekends…
Mom was a great singer.  She played the Carpenters' vinyl record and easily out-sang them as we all tasked on Saturday mornings. Dad would occasionally listen to his transistor radio as he sifted through papers on his desk as we all buzzed about, pounding through our chores. Every once in a while the song “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver would find its way onto a transistor radio.  
Dad would turn it up with delight, slap his knee, and try to sing along.  He’d miss a few more words than he’d hit, snap here and there- until the chorus.
He’d sing it loud and word for word each time:
“Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads."

Those memories invite happy thoughts. 
If I were to summarize my thoughts on happiness. They center around a baton. Similar to the one I clasped during my first distance medley relay as a Freshman in High School. 

There were only a few specific yards that my teammate could hand me the baton in. 
I needed to gauge my speed, stride, and reach in order for the exchange to be effective.
My heart raced. My feet stood still until my teammate yelled “go” and then “reach”….
I did it. 
I held the baton in my hand and white knuckled grasped it for two laps around the track. Certainly the task of receiving the baton from someone else and carrying it just right was more stressful than keeping pace, cadence and rhythm in breath as I raced….

Gratefully- happiness batons don’t work that way. They are NOT received due to someone else’s work, effort or diligence. Equally, it’s not my job to provide the happiness baton for anyone else. 

Happiness is available to me anytime, anywhere. It’s a choice. 
I can choose to remember my Saturdays as a series of lack-luster weekends as part of a large seemingly boring, sometimes annoying family….
Or I can remember Dad singing about country roads and the freshly baked bread we enjoyed each afternoon…

I myself have been down sooo many roads…
Choosing happiness is always available to me as I journey. 

Some roads are freeways that if pictured at night , would simply look like white lines of lighted blurs across the shadowed landscape. 
Some are rough bumpy hardened dirt mixed with gravel rebelled on by an older rusty bicycle that shakes and rattles with every dip in terrain. 
Some are ice covered windy hilly roads with white knuckles clasping the steering wheel. 
Some are powder fine dirt roads taken so fast the plume behind me impairs any vision of where I’ve been. 
Some are simply carved out of natural occurring regions as if I’ve got a machete and am clearing brush with every step I take. 
Each road I take is part of my journey. 
Perhaps I’m wearing a different set of hats on each course…
But they are all necessary parts of my journey…. 

I’ve learned that “easy” doesn’t equate to “happy”. 

I’m grateful for the opportunity to stroll, run, ride and drive my way down so many roads, all while choosing to grasp my happiness baton or let it fall away. I’ve missed clearly marked turns and ignored sound advice by fellow travelers.  I’ve carved out my own path and sluggishly conformed behind nondirectional footsteps.
I’ve had my own steps disappear into thick mud and then disappear when my strength was no longer enough to keep traveling.  Here is where I was met by my Savior…I was carried, led, and rejoiced with as my efforts renewed. 

Happiness is not a baton I receive. It’s a choice I make. 
-On any day, traveling on any road. 

In all…
The journey is towards my eternal home…
“To the place-
Where I belong.”
Not literally just yet-
But in my memories, and faithful hopes for the future, it’s why I choose faith in my Savior Jesus Christ and work to choose happiness everyday. 

-JC

Peanut Butter Bars with Whipped Ganache Frosting

¾ cup melted butter
¾ cup creamy peanut butter
2 cups packed brown sugar
3 eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt

Mix melted butter, peanut butter and brown sugar until smooth. Stir in eggs and vanilla extract. Mix in flour and salt until smooth- about 30 seconds. Spread dough into a 9” x 13” baking pan sprayed with baking spray. Bake at 350 degrees for 25+ minutes. Let cool completely. Frost with Whipped Ganache Frosting. Garnish with melted peanut butter and melted chocolate bar as desired.
Let. set. Share.

Whipped Ganache Frosting

2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Dash of salt

Melt chocolate chips and cream in the microwave for 1 minute and stir until smooth.  Let cool to room temperature. Stir in a dash of salt. Mix on high for 3+ minutes to whip. Frosting will turn a lighter color, and become fluffier the longer it is mixed.

My sister looked straight at me and quipped,
“When you figure it out…
Let me know.”

I had just spent a few days with her as she had travelled from out of town. 
As frustrating as it was for me to admit-
I owed her an apology.  It had begun a day or two before her arrival. I was filled with angst, and thus a bit “off” during her visit. There had been a few “things” that I knew I was letting get to me. I knew it was the adversary trying to break me down. And unfortunately I wasn’t playing good defense. 

Defense was a bit tricky for me. 

When I began playing high school basketball, I was 5’1”, skin and bones, with disproportionately large feet compromising the degree of athleticism required for virtually any skill needed to play the sport.  
Within the first few days of the season’s practice we ran a lot of drills on both defense and offense.
By the end of the first week, the coach divided the team into two groups: offense and defense. 

The Midwest was one of the last regions to adapt it’s women’s basketball programs. We still played 6 on 6 – meaning we never crossed half court. The rules were different. 
You were either on offense or defense. 

I was super competitive with zero honed skills. The best girl on our team had a lot of interest in playing collegiate ball. Truth is- if our team was going to win- she would be playing the whole game, scoring most of the points. 

Coach assigned me to play offense. Knowing what I know now- it was an obvious choice. My small build created no difficulty for  an opposing player to see the court, her teammates or the hoop. My extra large feet supported by scrawny ankles and toothpick legs were not easy to pick up and move. I was slow and slight. A bad combination for defense. Coach wasn’t planning on needing a sub for the offensive squad and could give all of my reps to the star player – so clearly the right spot for me was offense. I didn’t care that my chances were limited. I loved being part of the team and playing the sport in whatever drills I was a part of. 

A few years later when we moved to Pennsylvania- I entered a region where the women’s game had advanced to 5 on 5- full court. I had grown quite a bit, increased my competitive edge and was expected to be proficient at offense and defense. 

Defense was challenging- Mostly because of all the rules against physical contact. 
It was never a problem for me to make certain the girl I played against didn’t score…because every time she got close to getting around me or putting up a decent shot- I’d physically impede her ability to do so. 
Coach had to repeatedly blow his whistle to stop practice to teach me what a foul was and why I couldn’t do what I was doing. 
The first five games of the season ended the same way- I spent most of the fourth quarter on the bench having fouled out of the competition. 

Coach finally told me- “If you want to play for me – learn how to stay in the game.” 
I had to get better at defense…
Coach explained to me that if you had an idea of what the offense was going to do, you could defend the score. We scrimmaged against the JV team every day in practice. They ran the same plays we did…

So I got it-

I knew what the girl I was defending was planning on doing- and I simply didn’t let her do it.  I became a better defender literally instantly. 
When it came time to play other teams- Coach gave me the scouting report of the girl I would be assigned to defend. I knew whether she preferred to drive to the basket hard the whole way, pull up for a jumper, or lob the pass to the center. 
I knew what she wanted to do- and I cut it off. 
I became a very proficient and strong defender. 

But here I was in my life 35 years later letting the adversary claim victory after victory. 

The moment my sister asked the question, my heart initially sank… 
“Why was I so weak at times…?” I wondered. 
In that same moment God taught me… I immediately knew the answer. 

It was all about God’s law of opposition. Everything has its opposite.  I was beginning to more fully understand my spiritual gift of feeling God’s Spirit super strong. I could at times very easily hear Him…
And with that gift, came the opposite.
And I had not been playing good defense. I knew- that always before God needed me to show up for Him in specific strong ways- the adversary would work a bit harder to rattle me. 

It was like a pendulum. It swung high in both directions. 

I was so grateful to finally know and understand. I have a pretty good idea how the adversary will want to score on me. And I know how to stop him. I just need to be honest with what I’m feeling. Negative energy doesn’t at all mean I’m “off”.  It’s a sensitivity, and that’s a gift. It means I better be playing my best defense and then be willing to be all in when God calls my number to do his work. It would be easy for me to sit at the end of God’s bench with my eyes cast down at the floor. It would be easy for me to rationaize that there are many more qualified than I to step in.

Thats not how I’m going to show up on God’s team. I’m working to be ready- bold and aggressive when I get the chance to play for Him.- Leaving it all on the court when I get my opportunity.

-JC

Magic “7- Layer” Cookies

1 cup soft butter
1 cup granulated sugar
⅔ cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ⅔ cups all-purpose flour
2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt

___

1 cup butterscotch chips
1 cup milk chocolate chocolate chips
½ cup toffee pieces or chopped nuts
1 cup toasted coconut

Cream butter and sugars with an electric mixer on medium high for 2+ minutes or until fluffy. Hand stir in egg and vanilla extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Scoop out approximately 24 -2” balls of dough.  Gently roll into graham cracker crumbs.  Flatten slightly. Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet. Layer on the top each cookie: butterscotch chips, milk chocolate chips, toffee pieces or nuts, and toasted coconut. Bake at 375 degrees for 9+ min. Remove from the oven and drizzle with Caramel Sauce. Sprinkle with mini semi-sweet chocolate chips.
Let set. Share!

Caramel Sauce

1 cup sugar
6 Tablespoons soft butter
½ cup cream (room temperature)
½ teaspoon sea salt

Heat sugar in a saucepan on medium-low heat.  Stir every 30 seconds. Sugar will initially clump together and then melt and turn an amber color. After all the sugar pieces are melted, remove from heat. Stir in butter.  This mixture will splatter a bit until mixed in.  Stir in cream and salt.  Let cool until ready to use.

When Bren was 8 years old- he was having a hard day. His afternoon expeditions and joys of lizard chasing with the neighbor boys and His brother were cut short by me….
I had called him in-
It was time for dinner, reading, baths and bed. 
I notoriously let the boys play until literally the last possible moment to maintain peace and yet preserve the 10+ hours of sleep Bren so often seemed to need. 

On this particular day- my directive was received with harshness. 
“I’m running away” Bren quipped as he slung open the front door. 

“Where will you go?”
I asked, wondering how solid his plan was. 

“To Grandma’s house!” He replied with surety. 

“Well I wanna go there too!” I said. 
“I love it there…and there’s a candy drawer…”

“You can’t come with me,” he said…
“I’m running away…”

“It’s getting late and will be dark soon…”
I reminded him. “Maybe you should run away tomorrow…”

The frustration was diffused and lost its momentum. The next day- his desire to get away from me and the household structure had past…
I phoned my mother-in-law and let her know of Bren’s plan- 
Just in case on another day- he successfully traveled the 2 miles across sagebrush, crossing several highways…and showed up there. 
I imagine she would have received him with love, made him a sandwich, and helped him back home. 

Years later, as a sophomore in high school. – Bren was having another very obvious hard day. 
As a Mom- I knew it would never serve him well to just tell him what to do or how to solve his troubles. So I winced a bit- hoping it was a good idea and began to ask him questions. 
After the first question I realized the situation was beyond my earthly knowledge to navigate. I said a quick prayer- sitting on the sofa with him and trusted that Heavenly Father would take over the conversation and help me help His child. 

A few months later- Bren shared his process about that day to our church’s congregation in a talk. 
He said of it:

“I was talking with my mom and told her my life wasn’t good. I bombed my finals, lowering my grades in all of my classes. The tests were a lot harder than I thought they would be. I guess maybe I should have studied more. I had the worst basketball game. I couldn’t shoot! That’s all there is to it, I missed every shot. We lost in overtime. Part of what made it so awful was everybody who saw me play- my grandpa, aunt and other family was there, the Varsity head coach, even Conner and his Dad came. I’ve never shot that bad in my life. So school’s bad, basketball is bad, Mom’s idea of family cleaning every Saturday is bad too! 

So as I talked with my mom last night about how my life isn’t good right now, she asked me what I had done right this week. I read my scriptures, said my prayers, and went to church. I felt like I did all that and got nothing.  Then Mom asked, “Well, if you got nothing, then does God really exist?” 

I know He does. Even after all the bad this week, I still trust the Lord. He has helped me before and I know that He will help me again. I don’t know why I had a bad week.  Maybe I need to practice more and study harder. Maybe this week was supposed to be a learning experience.  But I do know that I still put my trust in the Lord. I trust that maybe the Lord is saving up my blessings for another day, maybe even another game…The Lord has helped me before and I know that He will help me again as I put my trust in Him.”

As a mom of a kid who was struggling a bit, I needed to hear this.  I needed to know that everything I didn’t know, the parenting skills I so desperately lacked, and the energy that never seemed to be enough didn’t matter. 

I only needed to step back, let go and let God prevail in my home.  He would teach me how to teach His children that I was entrusted to help raise.  He would teach me how to love and how to forgive.  He would teach me what to say and how to listen.  Then and only then could my kids get what they needed from me as their mom.

One of my favorite places to run away to (visit) is still my Mother-in-laws home.  There is love there. It’s a safe and happy place to be.  I’m reminded of times and seasons where there was exhaustion in my life always mingled with just the right amounts of reprieve and love as I entered her home.
And I am ever grateful for a perfectly loving and wise Father in Heaven who teaches me how to parent His children with love, grace and wisdom.

I pray that as seasons change, and their challenges follow, that I can be a little better and bolder in faith and charity. Christ walks with me and He walks with them. I’m grateful for this Christmas season, where we more easily find reminders of Him and His purpose with the Father.

-JC

Peppermint Crunch-Chocolate Marbled Cookies

Make a batch of: Peppermint Crunch Cookies
½  cup soft butter
¼   cup vegetable oil
1 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
½ teaspoon peppermint extract
1 ⅔ cups all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup peppermint crunch

Cream butter, oil  and sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high for 1 minute or until well blended. Hand stir in eggs and peppermint extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated.  Gently fold in peppermint crunch. Add 1-2 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. 

Make a batch of: Chocolate Sugar Cookies
½ cup soft butter
¼  cup vegetable oil
1 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
½ teaspoon peppermint extract
½ cup cocoa 
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt

Cream butter, oil  and sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high for 1 minute or until well blended. Hand stir in eggs and peppermint extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 1-2 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Scoop out approximately 24+ 1” balls of each kind of dough.  

Marble cookies by placing a disc of Peppermint Crunch Sugar Cookie on top of a disc of Chocolate Sugar Cookie. Break into half, length-wise and place one half on top of the other. Flatten slightly. You now have four layers of alternating flavors. Break and stack again. Roll into balls. For a richer flavor and smoother texture, form cookie dough balls, flatten slightly and refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake. Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet. Bake at 375 degrees for 9+ min. Cool. Dip into melted Peppermint Chocolate. Drizzle with white melting chocolate and garnish with peppermint crunch as desired. Let set. Share!

Peppermint Chocolate
2 cups melting chocolate wafers
¼ teaspoon peppermint extract

Melt chocolate wafers. Stir in peppermint extract. Use immediately.

I recently found myself on an unexpected walk across a University I attended over 30 years prior. Most of it looked exactly the same. I recognized the buildings and even remembered a few classes I had attended as I strolled past familiar landscape. 
I also remembered certain places because of the people I met there or feelings that seemed to rush back whether invited or not.

I approached the concave front of the administration building. 
“I hate this place.” We’re the immediate thoughts that filled my mind. 
It was a strange initial reaction to seeing it again for the first time in decades. I thought I was over “ it”.
But according to my subconscious unfiltered reaction, I wasn’t. 
I remember many frustrating hours spent there. 

One early fall day of my Sophomore year, I took a number and scanned the waiting room. It was filled with uncomfortable seemingly uninviting plastic seats. 
It was a time in life before cell phones or tablets. 
People sitting in a waiting room could only pass time with books or their own thoughts. 
I sat away from anyone else to avoid awkward conversations. 
I didn’t want to discuss why I was there, the desperate nature of my visit, or hear about anyone else’s problems. 

I was hungry. And literally silently praying that my number would be called and I’d be soon leaving with my financial aid check. 
The progression of numbers seemed slow. I didn’t understand what took so long as each student approached the window. 
I also didn’t understand why there weren’t more windows open. 
I formed clear opinions about how If management understood the hunger pains I felt and (literally) walked a mile in the broken down shoes of any of us in here, they would staff the window with a friendlier faster problem solver. 

My number was finally called. 
I gave the solemn lady my name and social security number. 
She spent way too long looking at her computer screen in silence. 
Without telling me any details, she pulled a piece of paper from a file with a few blanks and boxes to be checked. 
“Your paperwork needs an adjustment. 
Fill this out, place it in the bin and you should get your check by next week.”

She had no empathy, no understanding and no way to really help me. 
Did I mention I was hungry?…

My financial aid check was delayed again. I must have missed something on the original form. 
I held back tears and fought through the dry lump in my throat as I more carefully filled out the form. 
I suffered in silence. 
Hunger and a nearly vacant bank account was my Invisible Goliath. 

A week later, I exited the same building with a skip in my step and a prayer of gratitude. 

In the wait-
There was no financial miracle. Yet I didn’t feel betrayed by God. 
I didn’t need one as proof of His existence or love for me. 

Sometimes life is tough. Sometimes it’s our own decisions that result in a cause and effect that God literally let’s play out. 
I had been entrusted with all of the opportunities in my life then and now: the moments of glory and the struggles. 

God does not lose watch over or abandon me.
I’m grateful for that knowledge. It helps me keep perspective to embrace the chance to grow, refine, climb and draw closer to Him. 

I know hunger- but I also know that God’s law of compensation is real. As I battled in the trenches during those years- there were some hard days. 
But God blessed me with amazing roommates and others who I was honored to call friends. I had clarity as I studied and did well to retain the spread of information flooding me in my classes. I was blessed with safety as I walked at 3:30am nearly a mile for my 4am custodial shift each day. 
Angels- seen and unseen were part of God’s compensation for the miracle He withheld. I’m grateful for His perfect love and lessons He entrusted me with during my years at that University. 

My stroll a few weeks ago was chilly. After I passed the administration building, I was quickly able to “see” what God was doing for me during that time in my life. 
He did not lose watch over me –
And with a greater step in faith I’m working to try and “see” how He is working to guide and compensate me today.

-JC

(Gluten-free) FlufferNutter Crunch Cookies

6 cups peanut butter chex cereal
10 oz. gluten-free mini marshmallows
3 cups white baking chips
¾ cups peanut butter
Dash of salt

Combine Chex cereal and mini marshmallows in a large bowl. Set aside.  Melt baking chips and peanut butter in a microwave safe bowl. Stir in salt. Pour peanut butter mixture over cereal mixture. Toss until combined. Spoon out large cookies onto parchment paper or press them into a 9″ x 13″ greased pan. Drizzle with melted chocolate bar if desired.
Let set. Share.

I slowly climbed each rung with increasing unsteadiness . My arms and legs were shaky and my pounding heart could nearly be heard. I felt my toes clasp around the metal runs with greater deliberateness the higher I went. 

It was my first time climbing the rungs that would take me to the fiberglass platform. I had gathered enough courage to make the climb. But as I inched my way out to the edge of the platform my mind circled with which decision would be worse: Do I make the unsteady climb backwards down to the ground or crazily make a fearful jump into the swimming pool below?
The high dive was no joke.

I didn’t want to be one of those people who held up the line. I didn’t want to be one of those people who garnered the attention of everybody in the swimming pool who then felt like they needed to cheer on the poor soul who was mentally screaming inside, stuck between the fears of all available options .There was all sorts of crazy going on in my head.  It would only be made worse if they were chants from the sidelines encouraging me to jump.

So I quickly decided just to do it. -Just jump.
Thus, I awkwardly, with a seemingly running start, engaged in a free-fall from the high dive. I forgot to take a deep breath in. I’m not sure it would’ve done any good anyway. As whatever breath I had left quickly exited as my body hit the water. I went into the swimming pool much deeper than I even thought was possible. It seemed like forever as my arms uselessly tried to propel myself upward again. I felt like I was in the water forever. Yes. It was absolutely a dramatic uncontrolled feeling.

And yet there’s no other way to experience those feelings. There’s no other way to look up from the deep water and see the sunshine through the filter of water. There’s no other way to describe feeling like you have no breath and therefore doing all within physically possible to return to the surface for air. There’s no other way to describe the sounds nor the near-silence of noise filtered through deep water.

There’s also no other way to describe how once you surface and look around, it’s as if you were never in the deep. People around you don’t react or respond as though you had just endured, suffered, and experienced the deep waters around you. Life didn’t change for them. Hearts didn’t race around you. Breath resumed at a normal cadence for everyone else. I was in the deep. Only me. I was the only one experiencing it.  And I’m the only one who surfaced with the knowledge that I could. Which I’m not sure I understood -until I did.

I feel like in life God sometimes allows me to be in deep waters. If I’m calloused enough on any given day, I might even accuse Him of throwing me in.

It’s in those deep waters of life that I’ve learned and gained wisdom. It’s in those deep waters where I learn empathy and understanding for others because of the things I experience myself. It’s in those deep waters where my lens changes. I learn to scroll out. I’ve learned to adapt to a different view of what is happening in my life. I work to borrow my Heavenly Father‘s eternal lens to try and see from His view what is happening. I try to see what He wants me to learn, and who He wants me to emerge as.  

It’s only truly then that I can ascend to the platform with greater faith. My toes still wrap around every step.  Yet, my hands clasp the rails with greater calm and surety knowing the climb is part of the eventual descent into deep waters…

Attentiveness in step and grip on the climb is part of the entire process.

Whether it’s today’s journey or an agreement made in a more celestial realm, I know God is allowing me to enter deep waters that I have agreed to dive into. I feel reassurance that the hand offered by my Savior offers strength and power beyond my own. And I’m grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who is patient with me on the climb and allows me to have faith in the struggle to the surface

God doesn’t allow re-dos in life. I don’t get to go back and live any of my days wiping out the choices I’ve made or experiences I’ve had. There is so much obvious celestial intelligence in this. The climbs I make, having faltered or succeeded on previous days are part of the wisdom I get to take with me the next time I climb. This refining process is exactly as it needs to be. Therefore regret needs to be left behind. It is useless. As I look in my past, there are always things I would have done differently with the knowledge I’ve gained since the experience. I work to allow such to propel me to change as I move forward. Getting stuck is a choice. It doesn’t serve me well.

As seasons changed, I was filled with excitement on the first day of the pool opening each summer. I quickly joined the long line of kids who stood awaiting their turn to climb up to the fiberglass platform.  There were many each year who paused at the top.  Some climbed the unsteady rungs back down and some jumped with silent or verbal screams.  I understood both- completely.  And I was ever grateful for the thrill I felt as I learned to jump and then dive with greater confidence, absolutely knowing that I would resurface, swim to the side and rejoin the line for another go around.  

I’m working on embracing the climbs in my life with more of a mirrored approach to the high dive.  I still ascend with shaky arms and legs, and a pounding heart. But in the end, I’m grateful for the climb, the dive, and the ability to resurface with greater knowledge, having felt the love of my Father in Heaven and Savior journeying with me.

-JC

Maple Glazed Waffle Cookies

¾ cup soft butter
¼ cup sour cream
½  cup vegetable oil
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon maple extract
3 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon cornstarch
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon salt

Cream butter, sour cream, oil and sugars with an electric mixer on medium-high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and maple extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Scoop out approximately 24 -2” balls of dough. Gently roll into balls. Flatten slightly.  For a richer flavor and smoother texture, refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake. Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet.  
Bake at 350 degrees for 12+  min.
Drizzle with Maple Glaze. Let set. Share!

Maple Glaze

4 Tablespoons melted butter
½ cup maple syrup
½ teaspoon maple extract
2 cups powdered sugar
Dash of salt

Blend all ingredients in a food processor until smooth.  Set aside in freezer strength quart-sized Ziploc until ready to use.

I had a self-assigned job to organize the garage. 

I decided to put it off for a few weeks, but milled around one day to assess how many storage racks and plastic tubs I would need. I quickly became distracted with a plastic tote with my name on it. 

I opened the lid to find “stuff” denoting years past. Most of it was mementos from high school.  Few items held any true value for me- even in memory of the story they told. 
Filtering through the tote, I found a broken trophy. It took me back to the smell and view of the back hallway near the girls locker room of my first high school gym in Sidney, Iowa. There was a wall filled with trophies and a list of record holders. It seemed like a valuable quest in life to contribute to teams and contests to add to the plaques and placeholders. 

I worked hard and earned a place for my name on the wall for the High School Girls 1500m run. I posted my best time ever my Freshman year. That effort mixed with a few others earned me a small (now broken) trophy stashed in my garage tote: “Rookie of the Year”. I have no recollection of the record breaking race. None whatsoever.
Because for me- nothing happened in my head or my heart to change me. 

Decades later-
The stories I remember that have framed my faith are never moments of recognizable worldly glory. They are instead memories of working in the trenches of life. 

I can easily recall harsh words -heard and uttered, fails and falls – both literal and figurative.  I can remember feelings of insecurity, insufficiencies, and seemingly inconsolable loneliness- and then unseen seemingly unexplainable refuge from such. 
The work is done in the trenches. And the reward is silent and invisible to most. 

I’ve learned to love those unseen trophies. 

My dusty, cracked trophy whether on a shelf or in a box has no value or meaning. It doesn’t define who I am, how I show up, or my ability to be a disciple of Christ. 

But I know exactly where to find Christ. 
He’s in the trenches of my life working alongside me-
Aiding my strength as I work, encouraging me, and sitting with me as I beg for rest. 
He lifts me to keep working, keep believing, and keep trusting God, faith and celestial promises. 
He meets me at every invisible finish line podium. He places a triumphant medal around my neck urging me to keep working to grow the spiritual strength gained in the trenches.

If I close my eyes and recall my stories-
They are mine to own- mine to claim and filled with proof that God is in the details of the details of my life. 
As I claim my stories- I am required to write their evolving chapters. I own how I show up and progress in them.

I’ll get serious about tasking in the garage another day. In the meantime, I’m grateful for the walk down memory lane that the old plastic tote invited. 
And even more so-
I’m grateful for the real work done in between earning a few ribbons, medals and acquiring yearbooks. 
I’m grateful for the real stories of my life earned in quiet unseen moments without a letter grade, stopwatch or photo. 
I’m grateful for countless opportunities provided by God to write my own story- complete with invisible trophies documenting my progress. 

There’s no wall of recognition in God’s kingdom-
Just the greatest reward – that of daily peace in the trenches.

-JC

Caramel Pecan Frosted Chocolate Sugar Cookies

Chocolate Sugar Cookies

1 cup soft butter
½  cup vegetable oil
1 ¼ cups granulated sugar
1 ¼ cups powdered sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup cocoa 
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt

Cream butter, oil  and sugars with an electric mixer on medium-high for 1 minute or until well blended. Hand stir in eggs and vanilla; don’t over-mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Scoop out approximately 24+ 2” balls of dough.  For a richer flavor and smoother texture, form cookie dough balls, flatten slightly and refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake. Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet.  
Bake at 375 degrees for 10+  min. Cool. Frost with Caramel Pecan Frosting. Garnish with melted chocolate bar.
Let set. Share!

Caramel Pecan Frosting

½ cup butter
1 cup packed brown sugar
3 egg yolks
8 oz evaporated milk or half and half
—–
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Dash of salt
2 cups toasted coconut
2 cups toasted pecans

Cook butter, brown sugar, egg yolks and milk on medium heat whisking constantly until mixture thickens and begins to boil. Let boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat. Stir in vanilla and salt. Gently fold in toasted coconut and pecans.
Let cool until room temperature.
Set aside until ready to use.

A few weeks ago- I took a drive through the zip code I used to call home. 

I drove down my old neighborhood streets that looked less familiar than I figured they would. Trees had matured, slightly changing the view from my car window. There was definitely an air of familiarity and yet mostly in the memories that the drive evoked.

I love the town that was home to us for almost 2 years. I felt like we could build a future there, put down some roots, and find extended peace and happiness in living there. Memories flooded into my mind as I drove down familiar roads, and visited my favorite soup cafe and pie shop. At one point, I took a road headed the opposite direction towards my next task simply to enjoy the beautiful red rock adjacent to the highway. I was blessed to catch up with a few friends who were lifelines to me during our time there. I then braced myself and drove by Jess’ old high school.

I was reminded of the battle ground.

I remember dropping my daughter off for her first day at the new high school. I remember the nausea and inability to calm my beating heart. She was seemingly optimistic and I tried to borrow some of her positivity. The next set of memories is a blur. There was a lot of hard…
Many Invisible Goliaths lurked in those hallways, classrooms, and gymnasiums. There was isolation, loneliness and longing for home.

In the true form of any battleground- there was a battle. 
Jess fought to embrace the truths she had worked to gain with perfect knowledge that she was a Daughter of God- that He was aware of her and that she was right where He needed her to be at that time in her life. She worked to understand His perfect love for her.

I leaned on her beliefs at times as my heart broke during so many battles. 
Consistent, constant reprieve came as we visited the House of the Lord there. 
Angels ministered to us. Loneliness was replaced with unseen unwavering companionship. The hard seemed to have constant interruptions, documenting God’s perfect love. 

One far too quiet Sunday afternoon, Jess’ older brother arranged a video call. We missed attending family dinner each Sunday with all of the cousins, aunts and uncles. Bren was in Hawaii at college and had agreed to play a game with his little sister despite the miles and ocean that separated them. He dialed in and before long a competitive game ensued. 

I watched from the sofa just a few feet away, grateful for technology that was bridging a gap. It was a season where I tried my best to be a strength for Jess amidst being a shoulder to cry on and a sounding board to think with. It was exhausting as each day I felt like there was so much work involved just for me to remain optimistic – to remember how closely we felt God in the details of where we were. 

On this Sunday afternoon, I saw joy on the face of my daughter -true eternal joy. Her burdens had been lifted, perspective gained, and no doubt a victory claimed in between the roll of a few dice. 

Therein explains my love for that town. 

There were some tough times- but never did I feel betrayed by God for directing us there. We were blessed to meet amazing people and at the same time, we were entrusted with some epic battles of Invisible Goliaths. We were blessed with an armor of plentiful resources and buoyed up. 

Some of the hardest days I’ve experienced as a mom lay claim in that zip code and yet the place it has in my heart is a memory of God’s perfect love. Charity, hope, and faith grew in that zip code. Christ walked with us and we found His light in so many we met. 

At the close of my visit, I began the 3.5 hour drive north. As I glanced one last time in my rear view mirror, all I felt was love-
Love for this town, the people we were blessed to know, and the mountains we were entrusted to climb. The sun was descending into the western landscape, and I promised myself I would return soon to this sacred ground. I took some of my tiniest steps in faith, aided by my Savior, and was constantly uplifted by God’s angels- seen and unseen.

-JC

Gluten Free Peanut Butter Oatmeal Chocolate Chip

1 cup soft butter
1 cup peanut butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
5 cups gluten free oats (blended to powder form)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
4 ounces grated milk chocolate
2 cups milk chocolate baking chips

Cream 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 over-mix. Add dry ingredients including grated chocolate all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Stir in baking chips. Scoop out approximately 24-  2” balls of dough. Gently roll. For a richer flavor and smoother texture, form cookie dough balls, flatten slightly, and refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake. Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet. Bake at 375 degrees for 10+ min. Drizzle with additional melted chocolate as desired. 

Let set. Share!

The other day I was enjoying a long walk. My walks have become slower yet longer lately. I feel like I’m needing more time to just think, talk with God and try harder to listen to Him. I’m feeling a bit unsettled. 

I’d like to live my life where I can say with complete truth- 
“One step in faith is enough for me…”
But lately I’ve been feeling like the truth is-
“No way!” “Tell me more!”
I know it’s not God’s way to do so…
But sometimes I wish I had a larger road map with the specific turns, streets, and people clearly marked. 

Wishes…

Last spring we were blessed to be able to share a zip code with both of my boys and their families. We gathered for Bry’s birthday celebration complete with Stromboli and his favorite Funfetti cake. This kid deserves a celebration! He had just completed all the requirements for his Doctorate in Physical Therapy. He’s a hard worker, incredible friend, and a light in his discipleship of Jesus Christ.

A few candles were placed in the cake and as the family sang an off-tune version of the familiar song- “Happy Birthday”. My momma’s heart was full. I looked around, noting the smiling faces of the people I love, being most grateful for togetherness. As voices waned in the last line…”Happy Birthday to you…”  I chimed in “Make a wish!” as he was taking a dramatic big breath to blow out his candles. 

He paused and said “I don’t do that anymore. For eight straight years I wished the Nuggets would win the NBA Championship….
…and they never did. “

The room erupted in laughter while my heart momentarily sank. There was a sad thought in a moment that as a parent, my son’s birthday wishes never came true. 

I quickly brushed off the thought, joined in the joyful celebration only to return to that thought regarding wishes many times since that day. Wishes, beliefs, faith, and hope are all just words wherein many co notations lie. It’s the concepts that I’m interested in thinking about…

Those thoughts bring me to these three questions that one of my brilliant sisters, Kimmy, has taught me to ask:

What’s mine?
What’s God’s? 
What’s theirs?

Answering these questions has led to so much wisdom and peace as I try to level up my faith. 
With any internal angst, stress, challenge or question I ask myself:

“What’s mine?”
God expects me to do my part. Some of life’s battles, especially those connected with my own journey require effort on my part to fight. My strength is compounded as I seek for Christ’s help. 
 

“What’s God’s?”
Sometimes no matter how hard I pray, how hard I work, or how much I want to control the outcome- the position and power of ALL things resides with God. The harder I work to try and control what is happening, the more frustrated I become because it’s not “mine”. It’s God’s decision and my choice is to accept His will or not. 

“What’s their’s?”
As a mom- peace is pivotal to understanding this. My kids will be blessed with their own mountains to climb. With these- rarely does God want me to carry them in anyway. Sometimes I may be blessed to be an instrument in His hands with an inspired thought- but the journey is theirs to own. In these times as I relent to surrendering control- the growth and refinement get to be claimed by my children. (Or anyone else I love that is facing their own battles.)

This is obviously God’s perfect plan  for love and agency as we work to return to Him. 

The other day I slowly finished my walk, I was blessed with a phone call from Jess in between her college classes. We chatted about all of the  happiness she’s choosing in her life right now. There was much to talk about. I thoroughly enjoyed the company on my walk, and the ability to connect with her despite being a couple of states away.

I approached a five lane road that I cross at the beginning and at the end of my walks. There’s no crosswalk.  I don’t mind.  I played the video game Frogger a couple of times as a kid and appreciate the adrenaline rush each morning as I play it in real life on my walk. 😉
Jess has walked with me on breaks from college and (sort of) plays it with me too.  We wait at the sidewalk and I’ll just holler “Run!”  She doesn’t think I’m very funny but we laugh and dodge cars as we make our way across. My right hand is currently in a cast. As I set out for a moment of Frogger while holding my phone in my left hand, I bobbled it. I retrieved it from the asphalt but had to take a minute in the middle turn lane as the extra few seconds cost me a long enough clearing in the lanes of oncoming traffic.  I was again reminded of how waiting in the center lane helped me “level up” on Frogger.

It’s also a necessary mode in life. -Knowing whether to pump the brakes or slam on the gas. As I journey, life often moves fast. Prayerful assessment of Kimmy’s three questions encourages me to pause and thus- “Level up” in faith-

More faith begins with Christ. I know through the Atonement of my Savior, Jesus Christ there is hope. 
There is also peace, strength, grace, forgiveness, and penalties paid.
I know He has paid the price for all of my pains, temptations, sins and afflictions and I have a choice to carry those burdens or surrender them to Him. 

I’m working to surrender- 
And my right hand in a cast is a start. There are literal tasks that aren’t “mine” anymore.  And the change in expected workload each day adds to a deeper assessment of “What’s mine?” right now.  I feel like it’s time to “level up” with my faith.  I know it completely centers around accepting the answer I’m receiving in prayer right now.  I’m where God needs me to be, doing His will for me today.  I desperately want to see tomorrow.  He’s telling me that’s not my view to see.  So today’s task is trust…

And as I work more to become like Him- it’s easier to trust Him.

-JC

Candy Bar Cookies

1 cup soft butter
½ cup oil
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs 
2 teaspoons vanilla
3 ½ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup milk chocolate chips
2 cups+ chocolate based candy bars cut into pieces (use any variety of Snickers, Milky Way, Baby Ruth, Reese’s, etc…)

Cream butter, oil,  and sugars with an electric mixer on medium-high for 3 minutes or until well blended. Hand stir in eggs and vanilla; don’t over-mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Stir in chocolate chips. Gently fold in candy bar pieces. Scoop out approximately 24+ 2.5” balls of dough.  For a richer flavor and smoother texture, form cookie dough balls, flatten slightly and refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake. Place on greased or parchment paper on an aluminum cookie sheet.  
Bake at 375 degrees for 10+ min. Drizzle with melted Hershey Bars, if desired.
Let set.Share.

I was always looking for the angle…
I didn’t necessarily feel like it was always on purpose that I looked to complete tasks differently or create a different way to accomplish something…
I just thought “differently”….
(Still do…)

The Southwest Iowa home I grew up in had a large living room.
We had a seating group on one end. The other side remained an open area where Mom had a large record player console on one wall, an upright piano on another, and the entire end wall was lined with built-in bookcases. It was filled with books I never read including an entire set of Encyclopedias. They were a gift from my grandmother who was an elementary school teacher.

Mom taught us five girls how to maintain good hygiene, work hard, love music, and be lady-like.

I hated the lady-like lessons. I felt like I wasn’t good at any of that “stuff”. Everyone called me a tomboy. Although I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, I believed it included being less lady-like than my sisters…

It was a common activity in our home where Mom would gather my four sisters and I to our large living room. We were instructed to take an encyclopedia and stand with our heels touching the wall of bookcases. We were then told to walk down and back from one end of the room to the other while balancing the book on our heads.
I’m certain there must have been a lesson on posture here… keeping head up, eyes forward, shoulders back, stepping gracefully…
I wasn’t interested in learning to walk like a model. I was only interested in getting back outside to play. I didn’t take these lessons seriously and was completely annoyed that they were required activities.

I became adept at what I can only describe as defying gravity.
If our book fell off of our heads more than a few times- we had to start over.
I quickly learned to grab the thinnest bound Encyclopedia, place it on my head, and outrun its inevitable fall.
Mom disapproved. But my attitude and argumentative nature gave her little reasoning power as I was clearly meeting the requirements.

I think I still struggle to sit or walk with great posture…
But I am learning more completely what it means to be just the right kind of “lady-like”.

President Russell M. Nelson spoke to women a few years ago.
He urged us –
“My dear sisters, whatever your calling, whatever your circumstances, we need your impressions, your insights, and your inspiration. We need you to speak up and speak out…
…You sisters possess distinctive capabilities and special intuition you have received as gifts from God.
…We need your strength!
…We need women who have a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and who will use that understanding to teach and help raise a sin-resistant generation. We need women who can detect deception in all of its forms. We need women who know how to access the power that God makes available to covenant keepers and who express their beliefs with confidence and charity. We need women who have courage and vision…
My dear sisters, nothing is more crucial to your eternal life than your own conversion. It is converted, covenant-keeping women whose righteous lives will increasingly stand out in a deteriorating world and who will thus be seen as different and distinct in the happiest of ways.
So today I plead with my sisters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to step forward! Take your rightful and needful place in your home, in your community, and in the kingdom of God—more than you ever have before.”

I’ll never forget the way I felt when I heard this. I felt as though he was speaking directly to me. I needed to stop using my differences as a reason to remain quiet in my realm of service. I needed to step up and step out of my comfort zones. I needed to become the lady that was just like the one God needed me to be. At the time, those words lent me the confidence and persuasion to do just that.

That was a few years ago…
I’ve been circling back around to these encouragements shared by a man who is now a prophet of God. In doing so, I realize I’ve lost focus of that purpose- of that importance. Instead, I choose silence and disregard thoughts that I may be able to offer another if I speak up and speak out for truth. I sit in the back, disengaged and disinterested in sharing what I’m thinking, assuming it will be mis-understood or mis-communicated. I’ve done some self-check lately. I’ve become lazy…

I’m not doing all I can to share my conversion to Christ and testify that my greatest strengths and joys are made available to me through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I need to re-light my fire in desiring to share what I know to be true.

It’s okay that I’m bold in thought. I DO have distinct capabilities. God has blessed me with the intellect and atypical thinking I have. He needs me to express my thoughts with confidence and charity…
It’s not easy for me or in my comfort realm-
But then I think back to the girl who can defy gravity in being “lady-like”…
And if she can do that, she can do anything God needs her to do to further His work and be exactly the type of lady who boldly and confidently shares her thoughts, impressions, and inspirations!.

-JC

Pumpkin Oatmeal Chocolate Chunk Cookies

¾ cup soft butter
½ cup pumpkin paste (made by removing extra moisture from pumpkin puree)
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cup quick oats
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoons cinnamon
2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1 ½ cups semi-sweet chocolate chunks

Place ½ cup pumpkin puree into a stack of several paper towels. Wring out extra moisture creating a pumpkin paste. Repeat until you have ½ cup of pumpkin paste. (Different brands of puree have different moisture content.) Cream butter, pumpkin paste, and sugars with an electric mixer on medium high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and vanilla extract; don’t over-mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Stir in chocolate chunks. Scoop out approximately 24 1.5” balls of dough.  Gently roll and flatten slightly. Place dough balls onto parchment lined baking sheet.  Bake at 375 degrees for 10+ min.
Let set. Share.