Cookies and Christ

I’ve picked up a part-time job. 

After the third day, I had worn everything I owned that wasn’t better suited for a class at the gym…
I had no other options and decided it was time to go shopping. 
Jess was away at college, but I came home and tried on all of the clothes, taking a picture of myself in the full-length mirror in my closet to send for her vote. The pictures looked a bit grainy…
I had yet to clean all of the construction dust from everything in my house following a recent remodel. I thought I had found it all. But it kept showing up in places- like the mirror in my closet.   

Jess would give thumbs up to the outfits she liked and then told me as if I didn’t know- 
“Your mirror is dirty…”

I’ve been doing so much work lately to try and clean up the reflection in the “mirrors” of my life. I’ve been working to see the girl who stares back at me the way God sees her.
I’ve been working to spend more time talking with Him- about her and how she’s doing… How she’s showing up in her life and whether she ever dials in with enough grace and patience to be an instrument in His hands. 

Enough grace…

My junior year of high school came with some healthy adjustments to my new life in my new town in Pennsylvania. I really liked the PE teacher, Ms. R. She was small in stature yet fiery in personality.  You didn’t mess around with her. She spoke straight and truthfully.  I felt like high school PE class was the closest thing to recess for teenagers… I hated sitting all day so I looked forward to my assigned hour with Ms. R.

Each quarter our focus would shift to a new sport. One day we arrived at the gym and my mouth dropped open… 
“Wait…Is this for us…?” were my thoughts that may or may not have escaped out loud…

Our high school gym was set up like a room I had only imagined from watching the Olympics on TV. It had been transformed with gymnastics equipment- a balance beam, rings, uneven bars… and lots and lots of mats.

For the next few months- I learned new techniques and stretched my abilities in an area way out of my comfort zone.
Following our last class at the end of the quarter, as was customary, Ms. R. told us we could swing by her office and see our quarter grade that would be posted to our academic transcript.

I quickly entered Ms. R’s office, exchanged pleasantries, and without much concentration, I quickly looked to see the typical A grade next to my name.  
I did a double-take, verified it was my name, and panicked. I couldn’t hide the instant stress, anxiety and quiver in my voice as tears welled up in my eyes.  I turned to leave.  I assumed the C grade would affect my chances for college scholarships, entrance acceptances and every other dramatic thought a near straight A student has…

Ms.R. calmly called me by name. I turned back towards her trying to swallow through the giant lump in my throat while still fighting off the tears that were trying really hard to escape my now slightly reddened eyes. She simply said, “Jackie- you are a hard worker, but you lack grace.”

She was referencing my physical grace-
And- she wasn’t wrong…
Her comment has lingered with me throughout the years and has with its memory offered some self-assessment.

I had the grit-
But lacked the grace. 
I underestimated how much I needed to understand grace- for myself and an increased ability to offer it up to others.  I had developed patterns of prayer and love for my Father in Heaven.  But I struggled to connect dots as to how I could tap into grace only available through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I tried to bust my way through life constantly frustrated in my inability to stop making mistakes. I then just tried harder to stop making them- followed by insurmountable failures. In turn, I assumed I was just too imperfect to be numbered as a follower or disciple of Christ.

The Atonement of Jesus Christ is the avenue for perfect grace. 
My Savior teaches me through His perfect love how to reserve cruel self-judgment, and exhale thoughts and ideas that are not useful. 
He teaches me perfectly how to lean on divine strength and love the imperfect me. 

When Jess told me my mirror was dirty. I laughed. Out loud- alone in my closet. 
And my first thought was,  “Girl- it’s way cleaner than it was a few years ago…”

I’ve been choosing to do the work. -To learn how to quickly forgive and love the girl who stares back at me. In so doing- I have plenty of love and forgiveness for others. 
It’s such a freeing concept- with accompanying peace.

Today, I’ll grab some Windex and a paper towel-
And the thought towards my reflection…
“You’re doing ok….
Keep working…
Keep believing…
Keep trusting in God…
His grace is always available to you…”
Then with a wink and a nod- I’ll be on my way. She deserves that from me.

Grit can never replace grace. 
Grace is required for progression, peace and happiness.
-In gymnastics and in life…

-JC

Turtle Cookies

1 cup soft butter
½ cup oil
1 ¾ cups brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 ½ cups flour
1 cup dark cocoa
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 ½ cup milk caramel baking chips
1 cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

Cream butter, oil  and brown sugar 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. Scoop out approximately 24 -2” balls of dough.  Gently roll and flatten slightly. 
Combine:
½ cup caramel baking chips
½ cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
½ cup toasted pecan pieces
Press 1 Tablespoon of mixture on top of each cookie. 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 375 degrees for 10+ min. Let cool. Drizzle with Caramel Sauce and sprinkle with sea salt if desired.
Let set. Share!

The bloody meaty carcasses hung in their sterile surroundings. 
I tried to play it cool- pretending I wasn’t grossed out or bothered. There was no way I was going to earn the opportunity to be tougher by receiving a more uncomfortable invitation to tour the slaughterhouse any more intimately than I already was.

In my 12-year-old mind-
The plan was simple-
Get in, walk quickly, nod often to my tour guide, get out…Then- 
Eat a doughnut (the bribe for taking the tour.)

My dad worked at a beef-packing plant. 
Gratefully, we rarely took trips to his office –
Because they always involved a tour….

My dad earned his Master’s Degree is in Agricultural Economics. He had an astute mind of good, better and best in the industry. Ideal employment for his education was elusive, yet Dad was excellent in his ability to work alongside his children teaching them the value of such..
Sometimes literally. 

After moving to Pennsylvania where my dad had taken what he had hoped to be a better job at a slaughterhouse there, he came home from work one day with a 5-gallon bucket of yuck. 

I wish I had a photo as proof of the disgusting nature of this “opportunity”. 
Dad probably wishes he had a photo of the look on our faces as he set it among us. 
Somehow we trusted him.

It was really no mystery. 
He worked alongside us, taught alongside us, and played alongside us. Trust had been earned. 

On this particular day, we stared at the bucket of yuck and he began with the numbers. 
“Brand new they sell for $1 each. I can re-sell them used to local farmers for $.50 each. 
If you want the job-
It’s yours…”

There was only confusion as he seemed to be done explaining himself.
Having lingered for a few minutes, the horrific smell was beginning to waft from the bucket…
“Dad…”

He noted the stillness and silence of the workforce. 
He said-
“If you clean these up-
You keep the money. 
Mom has some special (steel wool) pads you can use…”

The bucket was filled with (potential) money…
But what was it? 
Hindsight indicates Dad didn’t really want to tell us-
Or did he?

Giving us opportunities to be tough was part of daily life. 

He explained to us that when cows eat hay and feed there are occasionally small pieces of metal and nails inside of the bales of hay and manufactured feed. So the farmers force their cattle to swallow a 3-inch cylinder magnet. Then when they eat, the magnet (designed to remain in their stomachs for life) collects bits and pieces of metal that may otherwise wreak havoc on their intestinal system potentially with fatal consequences. 
When they are slaughtered, (at Dad’s work) the magnets are removed and (obviously) collected in a bucket “for Roger to take home to his girls”.
I can only imagine what those employees thought. 

The yuck and smells were officially worse now that I knew…
And yet…
I was good with counting and math and could see how much money could be made…

A few months later Grandma Terry came to visit. She was pretty, a bit bossy, and energetic. She approved of anything and everything that looked like hard work. 
She bought some of our magnets – just to be kind… 
Or so we thought… 

A few months later, wrapped in red and green paper with a tight ribbon- was a gift with my name on it. 
It was a magnet. 
She had crocheted around it and suggested it be used as a refrigerator magnet. 

It has served such a great purpose over the years. 
When the kids were younger it held drawings, soccer schedules, and shopping lists tightly on the door of my refrigerator.
These days, I mostly keep it in my kitchen drawer filled with random things. I open that drawer nearly everyday looking for something important. 
– And I see the crocheted magnet. 

It reminds me there is nothing wrong with hard work-
Especially in doing God’s work-
In order to be available to do God’s work, I have to be diligent with my own mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual work.

I have become better at embracing all of life’s work. Both the efforts seen and unseen…
Faith takes work. 
Letting God prevail requires work. 
The humility and wisdom to know when to act and when to refrain takes work. 
Cultivating the desire to show up as a daughter of God and disciple of Christ takes work. 

I’m not afraid of work. 
-only of not trying hard enough to be the Me God needs me to be. 

Sometimes understanding that work requires silencing the world around me. It requires stillness and surrendering…
Sometimes the hardest work in letting God prevail is to stop working so hard to drive a result and simply let God do the work. 

…Which for me- a doer, a worker- can often be the hardest yet most rewarding peace-filled work…

-JC

Bakery Style Peanut Butter Cookies

1 cup soft butter
¼ cup oil
1 cup peanut butter
1 ¾ cups dark brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 ¾ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

Cream butter, oil, peanut butter 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 mini chocolate chips. Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Scoop out approximately 24+ 2” balls of dough.  Gently roll into balls. Press the tops into a bowl of Reese’s Pieces. 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 375 degrees for 10+  min. 
Let set. Share!

The sign said: 
“No trespassing”….
But I walked passed so I assumed it didn’t apply to me…

Should I repeat that?

The sign said: 
“No trespassing”….
But I walked passed so I assumed it didn’t apply to me. 

At 17-many would have labeled me “smart”.
My high school GPA and ACT score would have backed up that assessment. 

So then why the gap…?
Why the lack of judgment?
Why the misfire of cognitive function between my ears…?

Because….
Someone said it would be fun-

Unfortunately, it sometimes was an unhealthy motivation to
Think the rules didn’t apply to me….
Literally-
I didn’t break them on purpose. Straight-faced with a strong sense of invincibility- they didn’t apply to me…

I encroached this path many times over the course of a particular summer-
Each time strangely assuming the sign didn’t apply to my situation. 
(I’ll have to apologize to my angels someday who had to show up in groups to keep me safe from stupidity.)

If you were to ask me if I thought it was ok to break the law-
Even at 17- I would have replied with an emphatic “NO!”

And yet….

So how do I sort through this so many years later as I watch myself continue to do things that compound my troubles and ultimately cause a bit of (un)expected grief….?

Mistakes are made. 
Even with the best of intentions, I fall short. (We all do.)
Be it in action, speech, progressing in spirituality, or doing the work to improve mental, emotional, or intellectual health.
We fall. 
We fail. 

A few weeks ago I was walking with some friends and finishing up a phone call. Seemingly without warning, I stumbled…
Literally I went from being upright and leisurely walking to a tumble that sent my phone flying ten feet in front of me, and my left shoulder bracing my hard fall.  My friends gasped, gathered my phone, and quickly joined me in laughter as I simply had no explanation for the near face-plant.  
I fail.
I fall.

What a blessing…
Because I know exactly how to get up. 

My character and relationship with my Savior are strengthened not by obsessing about avoiding the fall- but by getting up. 

Over and over and over again…
I’m pretty good at it. 

Some might suggest I try a bit harder to stay upright. 
I don’t know about that advice…
I’m not suggesting a “sin on purpose” mentality..
…Rather a sure knowledge of what falling feels like. 

My Savior is my Friend, my Brother, and my Advocate with my Father in Heaven. 

How else would I have such perfect knowledge of Him if I wasn’t such an expert of falling and doing the work to get back up…?

-JC

Chocolate Whoopie Pie Cookies

1 cup soft butter
1 cup sour cream
2 cups granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
⅔ cup dark cocoa
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Cream butter, sour cream and sugar with an electric mixer on medium high for 2+ minutes or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and vanilla extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Add 2+ Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Scoop out 40+ 1 ½  ” mounds of dough. Dough will be sticky.  Bake at 375 degrees for 12+ minutes. Do not underbake.  Cookies should dome slightly and be cake-like. Let cool completely. Frost the bottom side of ½ of the cookies with Marshmallow Creme Frosting. Let set. Share!

Marshmallow Creme Frosting
½ cup soft butter
2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ cup whipping cream
Dash of salt
14 oz. marshmallow creme (Fluff)

Beat butter, powdered sugar, vanilla, whipping cream until smooth.  Mix an additional 2-3 minutes on high speed.  Fold in marshmallow creme.

The portion shared with me was large enough to feed a small family. As I opened the container I could see the meticulous preparation of diced celery and onions, sliced carrots, grilled chicken, and a broth atypical for any I’ve ever had before and yet incredibly delicious.

A day prior, the doctor said I simply had a virus- likely a common cold. But it felt anything but common. I canceled my upcoming flight and stayed home for an extra couple of days to rest. On this particular day, I had a perfect visit from my grand-baby and delightful daughter-in-law who brought me some chicken noodle soup. I heated it up a short time after they left and the warm broth seemed to send healing down into my whole body.

The generously shared dinner fed further contemplation regarding healing- a concept that has given me much thought lately… 

Growing up in a busy household with lots of kids produced lots of chores. One night after dinner, Mom told me it was my turn to take the garbage out. She let me know the can was likely already at the curb for collection scheduled the following day so I’d needed to take the bag down our long steep driveway, to the street.

I didn’t mind the chore-
It got me out of the messy kitchen where dish duty had begun. 
I was almost to the curb when I felt my sock getting wet. I assumed something overly gross from the bag had leaked out. 
I looked down at my sock and noted it was soaked with blood. I dropped the garbage bag, shrieked, and ran up the driveway back towards the house. 

Many many layers of stitches later with a ban on water activities and riding my bike for a few days- was the course indicated for “healing”…

Over 40 years later, I still have a four-inch scar on my leg-

Christ healed people. 
Story after story in the Bible speaks of the miracles of healing. 
I’ve thought much about it lately, pondering the question:
What does “healing” mean?

If we are healed through Christ…what can we expect?

Sometimes it’s physical, but I believe a degree of healing is ALWAYS accompanied by or can be solely represented as emotional, mental, spiritual, or intellectual improvement. 

Could it be that a physical injury is healed in ways other than restoration to what it once was?
This is where our Father in Heaven and Christ step in. 

Our personal perfection didn’t exist before injury, accident, illness, or struggle. 
As we seek healing through Christ, we can be changed-
Not restored to imperfection, but rather improved to who we are supposed to be in a more perfect, empathetic state. 

Healing with God’s perfect love and wisdom never seems to look like what life or limb once was. The improvement and healing is a more perfect version of who God needs us to be with greater wisdom, understanding of His ways, and more perfect love for His children who are also battling their way through injury, illness, or heartbreak- seen or unseen. 

Within a few weeks, my stitches in my leg just above my ankle were removed and according to the doctor I was “healed.”
I could return to normal activities and eventually could do so without pain or compromised function. 
But certainly- my leg is NOT completely restored to what it was prior to injury. 
The 4-inch scar is part of me today…and it’s not going anywhere in any of my earthly tomorrow’s. 

It represents an experience where healing occurred as God would have it and is ideal for me as His daughter. 

I have other scars that can’t be seen. 
The healing there parallels a similar learning curve -and I am grateful. 
With anything “taken” from me- so much more is gained. 

I’m grateful for healing- 
God’s timing-
And Godlike perspective gained-
All possible through the strength amplified through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

-JC

Pumpkin- Cinnamon Chip Stacked Cookies with Cream Cheese Frosting

Make a batch of:
Cinnamon-Chip Cookie
½ cup soft butter
¼ cup sour cream
1 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ¾ cups+ 2 Tablespoons cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon 
¾ cup cinnamon chips

Cream butter, sour cream and sugar 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. Add 1+ Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. Stir in cinnamon chips. Scoop out 24+ 1+” balls of dough.  

Place on parchment paper lined aluminum cookie sheets. Flatten slightly. Top each cookie with a slightly smaller scoop of Pumpkin Cookie batter.  Swirl to flatten a bit. Bake at 350 degrees for 13+ minutes. Let cool completely. Frost with Cream Cheese Frosting.
Let set. Share!

Make a batch of:
Pumpkin Cookies

3 Tablespoons soft butter
½ Tablespoon oil
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup brown sugar
1 egg
¾ cup pumpkin puree
1 cup + 3 Tablespoons flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon cloves
¼ teaspoon nutmeg

Mix sugars with butter and oil on high speed for 60+ seconds. Stir in egg and pumpkin puree. Add dry ingredients all at once and stir until well combined. 

Cream Cheese Frosting

8 ounces softened cream cheese
½ cup soft butter
1 Tablespoon vanilla
2 Tablespoons whipping cream
3+ cups powdered sugar
Dash of salt

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

The Arizona sky is often bright blue with brilliant sunshine.
Clouds are not common.
After living in climates of cold, wind, and chill, I don’t hate it.

This afternoon, the sky was atypically filled with clouds and I had a short- “must do today” list. I lingered on my back patio and momentarily stared into the clouds which quickly took me back to memories as a kid in southwest Iowa where I would do the same. I never understood why my sister or friend couldn’t see what was obviously drawn in the clouds right above us.

Today, I saw a carousel horse with its legs extended in stride as though it was freely running through the sky…
It took me back to a memory of my Grammy.
It was a season where she was older and slowing down a bit in life.
We were temporarily living out East and therefore were blessed to be able to visit her often.
I had only ever met her a few times growing up, but new proximity had rewritten the opportunity for a relationship.

She was an amazing woman. She made the most delicious homemade meals without making it seem like a fuss, telling me incidents of her life and asking about mine.
One evening as we were getting ready to leave I had mentioned that I was planning to take the boys to an amusement park.
She paused. Her gaze took her to a memory she opted not to share.
“That’s wonderful….
Ride the carousel for me….”

Her words seemed profound and filled with wisdom. It’s difficult to explain.
I’ve pondered on them so many times. A carousel is a ride…
On a fiberglass or wooden horse….

Simple…Right?
But it’s where your mind can escape to -that becomes a memorable ride and journey. A birthplace of wonderment, freedom, and creativity.

Yet -it’s fleeting. As soon as the music wanes and the platform slows to a stop…
It’s over…
You dismount-
Exit… and are simply left with a memory-
Of the real or imagined ride on a horse…

It parallels much of my journey to understanding faith.

Much of what I see in life, it’s possible to make scientific sense of…
It’s literal- like the feel of the brilliantly painted manufactured horse simply turning circles in a fixed place.
But it’s the space and time of hope without proof that I can find a different truth.

In that faith- I feel like I can journey with peace, resolve, and joy.
I imagine a level of perfect love and happiness and feel empowered to make decisions that create it.

As I write this-
The carousel horse in the clouds has disappeared. Blue skies are prevalent…
And I’m simply left with my thoughts.

Choosing to only believe what I can prove is a choice.
Faith in things unseen yet hoped for is also a choice.
I choose the latter…
I choose hope…
Because that’s where I have perfect knowledge of my Heavenly Father and Savior, Jesus Christ.
That’s a “place” I want to “be” and literally put in the work to return to…

-JC

Caramel Apple Cookies

½ cup soft butter
2 Tablespoons oil
1 cup brown sugar
¼ cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
¾ cup apple butter
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Mix sugars with butter and oil on high speed for 3 minutes. Stir in eggs, vanilla,  and apple butter. Add dry ingredients all at once and stir until well combined. Scoop out 24  -2” balls of dough onto cookie sheets lined with parchment paper. Bake at 375 degrees for 12-14 minutes. Let cool completely. Top with a dollop of Caramel Sauce. Drizzle with melted white chocolate. Let set. Share!

Caramel Sauce
2 cups sugar
¾ cup soft butter
1 cup cream
1  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.

I recently returned “home” to Washington State for a (far too) quick weekend. 
So much about the feeling in that zip code invites cherished memories and excitement in pondering my Eternal Home.
The home we once owned is adjacent to my in-laws’ property. 
From their kitchen, I literally have a full view of our old backyard as it climbs the hill just south.
It’s had a few upgrades since it was owned by us. I saw zero weeds and perfectly coiffed curbs and transitions sprawling across the 2.5 acres. 

The basketball court is at the base of the property. 
That asphalt is sacred ground. Many tough days were worked through by my boys as hundreds upon thousands of dusty composite leather faded orange balls swished through that net. 

Saturday mornings, we worked as a family to clean the inside of the home and maintain the acres. 
Many…many… many weeds grew….
Being assigned a sector to weed was commonplace. 

The decision to buy that large of a parcel was simple-
There was in my opinion (with my Midwest background) no better way to teach our kids to work. 

The boys were teenagers in that home. We worked alongside them, grateful for all of the open conversations we would have in between piling sagebrush to burn, filling bags with weeds, and chugging Gatorade. Jess was expected to work alongside us as well. She was 7 years younger but was told to do her best to keep pace alongside us. We never actually expect her to be able to, but certainly did not tell her such…

She was a baby sis to two older brothers who never went easy on her. They’d never let her win a game of horse or even think about letting her get off easy on chore day. 
They didn’t love spending their Saturday mornings working in this way-
And we only finished when the jobs were done- so everyone was expected to work hard and quickly. 

One Saturday when Jess was about 9 years old- we had worked our way down to the basketball court. We had a few tasks left before Whit would grab two Dominoes pizzas for ten bucks and we’d call it quits for the week. We were likely in our fourth hour of work when the frustration of being-undersized and under-motivated for hours of weeding set in. Jess threw her black bag of weeds down on the court. Her oversized gloves followed. Exasperated, she hollered, “All I do is work work work and all this family gives me is crap!!!”

She stormed off into the house. She was done 
– and let us know it. 

The rest of us exchanged looks and laughter wondering who said what….
We shrugged, finished the task at hand, quit early for the day, and ordered pizza.

Jess joined us for a few slices of her cheese pizza acting as though nothing had happened….

But as a mom-
I felt like a nod in her direction had been earned. She was a 9-year-old girl working to try and keep pace with her older brothers-
Week after week…

Nothing makes me happier as I see what that looks like today. She’s a good friend to all and three semesters away from becoming a college graduate while working two jobs. She’s also slated to spend several weeks in the middle of her fall semester completing a required internship with an additional full-load of class credits. 

Most importantly- she loves Jesus. She’s a stalwart disciple of Christ looking to lift and light the world. 
In so doing, she teaches me to recognize it’s not God’s hope for us that we journey alone. She teaches me as she uses the resources made available through the gospel of Jesus Christ and his Atonement how to improve my own strength and let God prevail- allowing Him to guide my life and recognize the people He has placed in it to help me.

She shows up open-
To new ideas, and new people with a firm grip on who she is as a daughter of God. 
I’m the luckiest mom in the world as I get to cheer her on!
And in so doing –
…I see a fellow traveler.

God has placed her on my path-
I’ve literally felt that blessing since I first held her in my arms- just minutes old. She has her own course- but part of that is to help light mine as we take a few steps together on the road that leads us Home.

-JC

Bakery Style Chocolate Chip 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 ½ cups milk chocolate chips
1 ½ cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Cream butter, oil  and brown sugar 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. Scoop out approximately 20 -2 1/4” large balls of dough. Gently roll and dip the tops into a mixture of ½ cup milk chocolate chips with ½ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips.  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 400 degrees for 10+ min. 
Let set. share!

The other day I set off for a morning walk. I was emptying a handful of Jalapeño Cheetos into my mouth that I had chosen as a post-breakfast snack. One of the greatest things about being an empty nester is the freedom of decision-making without young eyes watching and learning from my every move. 😉

It was cloudy but warm. As I set off down the irrigation ditch road, the sky to the south was dark gray. To the north, there were scattered clouds with streaks of light blue poking through. I could walk for miles in either direction. I stopped only briefly in thought as to which direction I would head out. 

In Washington state where our boys were little and each day was scheduled around naps, big wheel riding, and juice boxes at snack time, we rarely if ever got the hearty house-shaking thunderstorms I had grown up with in the Midwest. 

When the boys were 2 and 4 we took an opportunity to move to Virginia for a temporary work assignment for Whit. 
One night after baths, jammies, and stories, the thunder rolled and sheet lightning followed. 
The condo we were renting had large windows on the wall behind our sofa. The boys stood on the sofa peering into the darkened landscape. When the clap of thunder and bolt of light filled the sky they buried themselves deep into the cushions. 
Moments later they popped up to peer out the window again. 

Sometimes after a series of storm claps and bolts, they’d retreat to my arms for safety. 
I could feel their hearts beating through the Batman jammies.
It was interesting to see their love-hate relationship with the thunderstorm. 

I personally love them. 

In the landscape and even in life. 

I’ve learned firsthand that you come to personally know your Savior Jesus Christ when the storms rage. 
He is there. He will walk beside me, aiding my unsteady steps. He will show light into a darkened path- even though mostly just one seemingly solitary step at a time. And when the winds knock me down, with the slightest eyes drawn towards Him, he clasps my hand with unwavering strength and perfect love. He meets me exactly where I am and lifts me as I let Him. 

So of course I took my morning walk along the ditch road to the south. 

A storm is a small price to pay to stroll with Deity.

-JC

Chocolate-Coconut Cookies

1 cup soft butter
½  cup vegetable oil
1 ¼ cups granulated sugar
1 ¼ cups powdered sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons coconut extract
¾ cup dark cocoa
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups sweetened flaked coconut

Cream butter, oil, and sugars with an electric mixer on medium-high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and coconut extract; don’t over-mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Stir in flaked coconut.  Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. 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. Remove from the oven and drizzle with Coconut Glaze. Top with a drizzle of 1/2 cup chocolate discs melted with ¼ teaspoon coconut extract. 
Let set. Share!

Coconut Glaze

⅓ cup cream of coconut
2 cups powdered sugar
½ teaspoon coconut extract
Dash of salt

Blend all ingredients in a food processor until smooth.

33 years ago I sat on top of my luggage awaiting a ride. I had literally been dropped off at the curb of a nearly empty Greyhound bus terminal with some broken dreams, faith that seemed fleeting, and a few bucks to my name. I had officially become an adult just a day prior but the decisions that brought me to my new ZIP Code were anything but child’s play… 

In the coming days- I circled the questions in my mind: 
Who are you- really? 
Why are you here? 
Does your life “fit “? 

Every August I seem to circle back to these same questions. Some years I like the answers I provide for these questions… And some years I don’t…

My fifth-grade year of elementary school brought with it a heightened sense of social awareness. 
There were those that were liked-
And those that were disliked. 
There were those that fit in-
And those that didn’t…
I felt like I could identify where others measured up… but struggled to identify where I landed on the social spectrum…
Yet it caused me a bit of concern…

One random afternoon, we were sitting in rows in unfamiliar desks in a neighboring classroom and we were supposed to be paying attention to the school nurse who was presenting “something”…. I can’t remember what…
Or did I ever even know…?

There was a popular well-liked boy sitting behind me. 

I could “feel” eyes on me. People were looking and giggling. 
I didn’t know why. 
But for the next hour- I assumed every seemingly possible reason. 
It was a dark place for my mind to go.  
I fought off tears as even those whom I called friends were looking …and laughing. 
Every negative attribute I ever felt or observed about myself must have been on display. 

40 years later-
I can still recognize the feeling….
Eyes on me are making assessments. 
Sometimes- those eyes are the ones staring back at me in the mirror. 

The feeling bears a similarity to a recurring dream but more of a nightmare…
The Invisible Goliath is only seen by me- and more felt than seen…

“It” has a different name depending on the day, the phase of life, or the mountain to climb. Sometimes “it” shows up as anxiety other times as depression, sometimes as a battle of self-will or negative self-thoughts. 

“It” is usually always accompanied by frustration, fatigue and discouragement. Sometimes I feel like I make advances towards overcoming “it” and other times I feel completely knocked down to the point of wondering if it’s worth my seemingly inadequate efforts to keep trying. Sometimes I just want to turn around and run the other way assuming that the feeling of triumphing over “it” would never even be worth the energy required. 

Other times, I wonder if perhaps it’s not even expected of me by God to battle “it”. The threats are real- yet silent to most- if not all nearby. Many of the threats bounce between the voices in my own head, causing me to wonder how real the threat really is. Yet- the paralyzing accompanying discouragement is extremely real. 

Perhaps I sometimes feel like the undersized and seemingly outmatched “David” in the fight with the Invisible Goliath. 
And then- I hope for his heroics, wherein a single battle he defeated the philistine giant.

Several days after I had allowed self-imposed  negativity  to nearly bury me in that borrowed desk in a fifth-grade classroom, I heard some kids talking about me….The girl whose braid was purposely dipped into the science experiment (a growing plant) sitting on the desk behind me. 

My hair braid was dipped in dirt- likely repeatedly… However, dirt was not the problem.

As a kid-on a double-dog-dare I had eaten dirt and then again sometimes just to bait a younger sister to do it-claiming it tasted good… 
Through the streets of my childhood town, I loved riding my bike through dirt mixed with water as it puddled after a long hard rain. I sought out the mud puddles to splash through…I still do that today in every opportunity. Mud puddles are for going through… Not around… Dirt was not the problem! Dirt was not my Goliath… neither was the popular boy who did the dipping…

My Invisible Goliath was what happened in my head…

When eyes turned on me, giggles erupted, and I sat in a nearly silent world with my screaming self-bullying thoughts….

Those became my Goliaths…

I’ve since learned how to better utilize the tools made available through the Atonement of Jesus Christ to recognize the work required and effectively battle. I don’t get “stuck” as often, and forgiveness – towards myself and others – comes more easily. My Savior knows exactly how each Invisible Goliath looks and feels. Conquering is only possible through Him.

It’s August…
Time for my annual self-assessment of my questions…
I am a Daughter of God. I understand this privilege and responsibility more with each passing year. Therein lies my greatest worth, purpose, and motivator to progress. My inner spiritual warrior is ready to battle. While doing so- I’m working to avoid the assumption that the Invisible Goliaths block my view of the happy horizon beyond…
They absolutely do not…
My life “fits” as I embrace that the greatest joy is not found by reaching a happy horizon, but instead, an abundance of joy fills my life as I battle in the trenches… with Christ by my side, enhancing the accuracy of every stone I sling…

-JC

S’mores Brownie Cookies

1 18 oz. brownie mix
2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 Tablespoons dark cocoa
¼ cup melted butter
2 Tablespoons sour cream
1 egg 
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Mix brownie mix, flour, cocoa, butter, sour cream, egg and vanilla together until well blended. Chill dough for 30 minutes. Scoop out 16 1 ¼” balls and gently roll.  Place on a graham cracker square and flatten slightly. Bake at 375 degrees for 8-12 minutes. Pipe Chocolate Ganache onto cookies. Add a small dollop of marshmallow creme. Garnish as desired with toasted marshmallow, graham sticks and chocolate drizzle. 
Let set. Share!

Chocolate Ganache
½ cup whipping cream
1 cup chocolate chips
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Dash of salt

Heat whipping cream and chocolate chips on low heat. Stir in vanilla extract and salt. 

By this age, I had thought “it” would be easier… but I had been struggling. 
I felt like I couldn’t even utter the words to the hymn, “I’ll go where you want me to go…”
I was worried that the “where” was too high of a mountain to climb. 
However, I’d been “there” before… at the bottom of the mountain staring straight up the nearly unseen path to begin my climb. 
I felt tired… yet my memory of each aided climb, the views along the way, and the strength gained – forced my resolve to try. 

It was a warm and sunny January day in Arizona. People were out and about no doubt refreshed with nice weather just a few weeks after the holiday season. 

My day had evolved to be unexpectedly busy. I finally found a window of time to take a walk late in the afternoon. I set out with resolve to talk things over with God and recommit to trying a little harder to let Him prevail and guide my life. 

I began my walk along the irrigation canal with a short conversation with God. “I want to try to do better and walk with greater faith…”

I’m not sure I really meant that I was all in for going and doing… but my intent was (weakly) there. 

I uttered the words and without taking time to listen for Him… I connected my new Apple Watch to my new headphones and blasted country music hoping my pace would follow the uptake in beat. 

At one point I had a thought to look over to my right. I saw a boy playing near the canal. He appeared to be about 10 years old and I thought nothing more of it. I continued on my quick pace and a few seconds later had the distinct impression to turn and walk over towards the boy. I noticed there was some splashing by the canal and quickly realized he had just helped his friend up onto the bank. I walked over towards the boys and asked them if they were OK. They indicated they were fine. I inserted my headphone without another thought as I turned back toward my walk. 

Yet, something didn’t seem quite right. I turned back and asked the boys if there was any trouble and the one began to sob. He told me that his brand new remote control car had accidentally gone off the edge of the ditch road (on the opposite side that I was walking) and had plummeted into the water. He had tried to reach for it and slipped a little bit, getting his shoes and clothes a little wet. 

I looked around. I even walked about 50 feet down the ditch toward a truck hoping that there was someone who could better assist these boys with their plight. 

On what was usually a fairly busy walking path- no one else seemed to be around. 

I was on the opposite side of the irrigation canal- about 20 feet away from the boys and their problem. I asked the one boy who said he lived nearby if he could go get a grown-up to help him. He said his mom was home but could not help. I then asked him if he could go get a garden rake. Perhaps then they could fish out the car from the irrigation canal. He returned with a golf club… innovative… but clearly not long enough. He asked me if I thought a rake would be better. I confirmed it would be. But I was unsure that he would be able to reach it given his slight size.  

The other boy remained on the edge of the canal sobbing about the distressing situation and the fate of his likely new Christmas gift. I tried to console him from the opposite side of the ditch, feeling less than adequately helpful.

I assessed that approximately 3/4 of a mile down the ditch there was an area that I could cross the ditch. Time seemed to be of an essence… and the boy would soon return with a rake and I was hopeful that they would be able to retrieve the car and be on their way. The boy returned with the rake. He was able to touch the car but did not have enough strength to pull it out of the water. He then suggested he could get his fishing pole…

I didn’t see that as a timely solution. 

I again assessed the area hoping that there would be someone more suitable to assist these boys. Literally as if never before – there was no one else on the trail. 

I took off my watch and my headphones unsure of how wet I would get…
I told the boys “I’m a grown-up so it’s OK- but you should never do this…“

I climbed into the irrigation canal. I slipped a little bit on the slimy surface as I entered the chilly January water. I was wet up to my shoulders, waded across in fairly deep very cold water, yet easily retrieved the remote control car and set it up on the edge of the ditch next to the boy who had lost it. The water was already making my legs numb. I knew I needed help getting out. The sides were pitched and slimy with mud. 

I told the boys they were going to have to help me out. They eagerly agreed. I told the one to hand me the end of the rake and the other one to help steady his friend as my weight would likely pull the one in. As if rehearsed, the boys pulled me out on the first try. I was grateful, very cold, and very wet. 

I looked across the ditch. 20 feet away was my own Christmas present- a watch and headphones. And yet there was no way for me to get them short of walking the 3/4 of a mile down to cross the irrigation canal 3/4 of a mile back up to retrieve my belongings and then again retrace my steps back towards home. There was no alternative. I figured once I got to my watch I would call my husband and have him come get me in a nearby neighborhood. 

Unfortunately, when I got back to my watch the battery was dead and I was forced to walk soaking wet and freezing cold the 2 1/2 miles back home. 

As I reflected on this experience later in the evening, I was reminded of something I had heard a few years prior. 

“…God only has imperfect people to deal with. It must be very frustrating for him but he does it anyway….”

Here I had verbally committed to try and let God prevail in my life. I wanted to be included in Christ’s discipleship and work towards emulating him. But fifteen minutes later, when the call came to help, I looked around hoping someone else could do it.

On that particular day, God needed me to show Him that I was willing to do whatever was asked of me. Not just the things I was confident with, not just the things I was comfortable with…

He needed me to know that literally anything He asked of me- was all a part of His work. 

I’ve since wondered if either of those boys prayed for help. 

If so- there I was- the only person available to be an instrument in God’s hands- trying to get out of the task…

That description is exactly not how I want to report my efforts to God. 

So what gets in the way?

I call them “Invisible Goliaths”. 
They are huge, threatening, and largely unseen by anyone else….
They cause doubt, fear, and paralyzing anxiety. 
They leave us depleted, searching, disconnected and exhausted.
They compromise our well-being, happiness, commitment to faith and our ability to show up in our own lives the ways we wish we could.
(So much more on these thoughts to come…)

On that January day – I was grateful for a long enough walk home that I could ponder. The dead watch battery forced silence.  The silence gave way to a heightened awareness of my chill, my thoughts, and my resolve. 

If it’s me God is asking to help another- my job is not to look to delegate it to someone more qualified. My job is to let God qualify me in doing His work.  

So for today-
I’m focusing on the one step in front of me…
And taking it with greater commitment and faith. 

-JC

Pina Colada (Chilled) Sugar Cookies

Make a batch of: Soft Coconut Sugar Cookies

Soft Coconut Sugar Cookies

¾ cup soft butter
⅓  cup vegetable oil
⅓ cup sour cream
1 ¼ cups granulated sugar
1 ¼ cups powdered sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon coconut extract
3 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups sweetened flaked coconut

Cream butter, oil, sour cream and sugars with an electric mixer on medium-high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in eggs and coconut extract; don’t over-mix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Stir in flaked coconut.  Add 2-3 Tablespoons more flour for high elevation. 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. Remove from the oven and immediately drizzle with Coconut Glaze. Let cool completely. Top with chilled Pina Colada Cream. Refrigerate until serving.  Share!

Coconut Glaze

⅓ cup cream of coconut
2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon coconut extract
Dash of salt

Blend all ingredients in a food processor until smooth.

Pina Colada Cream

½ cup coconut yogurt
1 small package instant vanilla pudding mix
1 20oz. can crushed pineapple
zest of one lime
3/4 cup sweetened flaked coconut
8 oz. thawed Cool Whip

Thoroughly mix pudding mix with yogurt. Stir in pineapple and lime zest. Fold in coconut and Cool Whip. Chill.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son…”
John 3:16

My gifts fell short of expectations…
Nor did I get everything done I wanted to do. I don’t know whether I would say I ran out of physical momentum, mental energy, or everything in between. But some days, a bit stuck in between is exactly how I felt. 

In 2020 I wanted to get myself a few gifts-
A handgun
A motorcycle
A miter saw
A nice pickleball paddle. 

The plan was to spend 2020 becoming proficient at the use of ALL of them. 

My handgun would be mostly used at the range and only occasionally on uninvited intruders. 
I imagined myself cruising on the open highway with the wind in my face…
I saw beautifully mitered corners on new trim work and wood-accented walls throughout my home.
I saw myself traveling to pickleball competitions, making new friends, and plenty of enemies through competition. 

My visions were clear. 
My goals were specifically defined…
And yet…

I feel like I can’t blame a virus or a concussion…

Perhaps I was just widely short-sighted in what God had in mind for me. As I tried to focus in that realm…I ran outta time for my hobby explorations…Some days this left me frustrated and regretful because I couldn’t see the big picture of what God was doing…I wondered how I could be this old and this untrue to things I felt were important to me…

On days I let God prevail in my life, I could look back to see the few things that I did accomplish in 2020. 
My greatest joys each have a name…
Someone I was blessed to meet…glean advice from… work with…work for…have lunch with…long walks and talks with…plenty of cookies to share with…and just “BE” with…

As I look back- I see where God taught me to slow down so I would give Him the ability to guide me. 

There was a strong element of starting over…
I had to put aside the vision I had for my time and resources and decide how much I could trust my Savior to help me muddle through…
I had to decide if being like Him was more important than reaching my (poorly designed) goals. 

I did great some days and terrible on others…
And yet- with each week and a renewed opportunity through Jesus Christ to start over…

I’m a bit pleased with the gifts I NEVER received in 2020. 

-JC

Peanut Butter Banana Chocolate Chip Cookies

4 Tablespoons soft butter
½ cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed banana
½ cup mini chocolate chips

Cream butter, peanut butter and sugars together until well blended.  Stir in egg and vanilla extract. Add flour, baking soda and salt. Mix well. Stir in mashed banana and chocolate chips.  Drop 2” scoops of dough on a parchment lined baking sheet.  Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes. Garnish with drizzled melted peanut butter if desired.
Let set.  Share!