SoupSpoon

Strawberry Shortcake and other sweet things

 

I am thrilled and grateful to be at a point in my momming that I am able to create things again. Canaan is able to crawl around and help me while I hang pictures, paint, or cook supper. She especially appreciates when we work on her baby book and I let her destroy the pictures I do not plan to use. She feels incredibly triumphant crumbling them in her tiny hand as she piddles around the room getting into every possible thing she can find. I love it. I love to enlist her into a blank piece of wood that ended up as our key hook, or the map that we wrote on and hung in her playroom. I hope she likes to create things one day. I would love to watch her make something beautiful.

You can see in the background of this photo our Give Thanks board. This last week I was inspired by this video (warning: it is really wonderful but incredibly sad) and immediately got one up in our dining room. We keep the little papers in the center of the table and add new things whenever we think of them. Honestly at this point in life there are constantly things to be thankful for. 

One delicious thing I am thankful for is Alice Waters' Strawberry Shortcake recipe. We had my mom, sister, and mother-in-law over on Sunday and celebrated being moms and the sweet little shortcakes that make us such. These are the bomb. Period. 

I must say that I have enjoyed being back in this space over the last week or so and am thinking I might keep blogging. At this point in my life I really want to write about all of life and what I am learning. What do you think? Do I need to change the name of my blog and everything?

Strawberry Shortcakes adapted from Alice Waters makes 6

Strawberries

4 cups strawberries, sliced

1/3 cup sugar

Cream

1 cup whipping cream

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon sugar

Cream Biscuits

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

6 tablespoons really cold butter, cut into small pieces

about 1 cup heavy cream

1. Stir the sugar into the strawberries and set aside

2. Heat oven to 400 degrees

3. In a dry bowl mix flour, salt, sugar, and baking powder together. Cut in butter with a pastry cutter or two knives until crumbly. Fold in cream and knead gently in the bowl a few times. Turn out onto floured board, roll 3/4 in thick and cut out biscuits. Reroll the scraps if necessary

3. Place biscuits on parchment lined baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes until golden

4. Whip whipping cream with whisk attachment until thickened. Add sugar and vanilla and whisk a bit more

5. Take 1 cup of strawberries and puree in blender. Add back to strawberry mixture

6. Layer cream and strawberries on top of biscuits. Serve and enjoy!

energized for mom's day

Stephen finished my mother's day gift today, and because he knows me so well (that I do not like surprises nearly as much as being able to know and be excited for days and days), he went ahead and gave it to me tonight. He completely and entirely has made me feel like I can fly.

While Canaan and I were at the beach this afternoon, he put together a year in pictures slide show complete with slides affirming how proud he is of me, how grateful he is for how I love our daughter, and other such wonderful words that set me soul alight. It was even set to music! He has gifted me completely perfectly. I was tired (literally yawning) before I opened my gift, and now I can hardly sleep for excitement for another day as Canaan's mom and his wife.

My moral of this story is that if you know a mom that is doing a swell job, or you admire something about someway that she moms, tell her. TELL HER. Tell her in a note or email or phone call or write it in the sky with stardust, just tell her. My heart feels so happy with his sweet words running through my mind, and every mom should get to feel this way too! 

 

 

been thinking

 

 

There are so many women that long to be pregnant, give birth, and know the joy of tiny fingers wrapped around the back of her neck. Every day at least once I can feel my heart beat faster as tears form on the edge of my eyes and the words catch in my throat, "God has given me a child." His generosity takes me to my knees. A child of the most High King, filled with gumption, strength, and joy, is beginning to say that one syllable that makes me smile more than I ever imagined it could, "Mom." She is His, and He trusts us to love and raise her. I beg Him to call her, protect her, and fill her where our love falls short. I trust Him. As hard as it is to realize that ultimately I am not in control, that I can't keep her safe forever, I am trying to lean into our Refuge that is and will. 

Becoming a mother reconstructed my heart. I remember in those early days of holding Canaan, when breastfeeding was going terribly, and we weren't sleeping, I remember thinking that perhaps this baby thing was a mistake. That I just wanted my old life back where I could focus on loving my husband and doing ministry... You know, real ministry out there on the streets... How sad and small my heart was. Canaan in only 11 months has shown me the beautiful work of real and genuine grace filled love. 

Loving Canaan has shown me that I am dependent. I am dependent on God for the energy and grace to love her and Stephen well despite the long (sometimes boring) days. I am dependent on help from others in ways I never imagined I would be. Learning that I am dependent has been a critical piece of my walk with Christ. 

Ego and control are in direct conflict with dependence. Learning to accept my position as needy in my mothering is a constant reminder of my neediness of my Father. I would say that I am a good mom, but I absolutely know that the wickedness of my heart would win every time if it were not for the sweet spirit of grace combating my selfishness, constantly.

Being a mom is viewed by many as the job you hire a babysitter for so that you can continue your important career. I pray that one day I get to watch my daughter take over the world as she holds her brand new baby in her arms. Sure, she could be Secretary General if she wants to be, but now that I am here, loving her, here, wiping the green beans off her cheek, here, reading her books about Rosa Parks, flowers, trucks, and God, I don't think that I could be convinced of any career more critical, challenging, or lovely than this. 

It takes the long term view though, to be honest. There are those moments when I am not that interested, actually, in stacking the cups one-more-time. In those moments I pray for visions of a woman, in love with her Savior, living her life of mission and purpose no matter what her hand finds to do... I picture Canaan as that woman, but sometimes, in His loving sweetness, God reminds me to see myself as that woman. Patiently, I am learning how to do that.

 

push pause

This year has been unbelievable. The hardest hard and gladdest glad tangled and woven thick as the darkest night. I need some time to sort through my thoughts before I can even begin to write out my thoughts.

Thus, I am pushing pause. I am not sure if I will write in this space again or if I will retire it when I return, but what I know for now is I am letting it and me rest.

Thank you for reading and being here for the last few years. It has been fun. For now I am looking for the space in my head to think. Once I find it and walk around in it for awhile, maybe then I will have something to say.

Love,

L*Joy

 

and then everything changes

The day of my last post, a few hours later, our family faced a grave loss. It is not my place to write about all the details here, but suffice it to say, the month of November disappeared altogether slower than any other month and yet it was as fast as a blur.

I was thinking yesterday of all the meals I have turned to this month as simple favorites. Meals that I don't have to check back at the recipe because they are as familiar as the voice of an old friend. Well hello there,  Chicken Noodle Soup, Roast with Wine and Rosemary, Turkey Chili, Apple Butter Hand Pies...

We have hung lights on the tree and are preparing for Canaan's first Christmas which is such a joy, but a part of my heart hurts and it probably will for a long long time. I am grateful for miracles and trusting like a wide eyed child that God will continue to carry our family like He has thus far, but still there are so many moments that echo with sadness.

Please accept my vague explanation and if you pray, please pray for joy to fill the empty places.

I do, however, despite all the tears, have a smile to share with you. Below are just a couple of our Christmas card outtakes. I hope you smile even half as much as I am right now. Man oh man, I love this family.

 

A new here

We moved, and slowly we are finding our home here. I love a house full of people, friends, scrunched around our dining room table for hours, eating and drinking until we can't anymore. Starting over with zero friends in this new town has been quite an interesting experiment thus far. Want to move with us and be our friends?

The stove in this house is fantastic (Five Star anyone?) and perhaps it is that that makes me want to start this old blog up again in full steam, but like I mentioned in the last post, a new blog is underway. A co-written space that is sure to win hearts and help you widdle steward time away as you read along. I have yet to completely decide what will happen with this space. Should I post recipes once a month? Should this be just archives? It is hard to say goodbye when there have been oh so many goodbyes lately.

But yes, a new space is being born and designed as I type, and soon we will invite you over for a read.

All good things...

This month, out of the blue, so many things changed. Canaan started really laughing, rolling over, sitting up with a little assistance, and then as if this isn't enough, we are moving.

Stephen was offered a job that after days of (crying) and praying, we decided was the right decision to make. Leaving this home, these friends, this church did not come without much kicking and screaming. I feel so sad at some moments, angry at others, and am working towards feeling hopeful all the time. Hopeful. What a beautifully whole word for such a vulnerable feeling.

So, needless to say, this month has been crazy. Our house went on the market yesterday and the pit of my stomach sort of ached... We love this home. We picked every door knob, every every thing. Prayerfully the next folks feel this love.

I have been nervous to bring this up, not knowing how, but I am about to change things up around this space too. For the last four years, I have loved filling these pages with food stories. Now in a different season of life, my mind floods with things I need to write about motherhood, family, and of course, food. So, I am playing around with the idea of a new blog that's purpose reaches further than recipes. There will be more frequent posts and a diversification of theme. There is also the exciting possibility of a co-written blog that we (my secret cohort and I) are just beginning to discuss...

So, all good things must come to an end. But. To end, these things have to begin and that is where I want to be.

Two months!

We had heard it said that you love your kids with a love like no other. It swells up from the bottom of your toes and overflows out of your ears. I believed people but now that we are here with our daughter, I understand what they meant. Her well-being, happiness, contentment, opportunities and growth drive all my actions. No matter how tired I am, if she needs me, I respond. Not everyone (maybe that does not bode well for my character), but not everyone elicits that sort of response. Some folks could garner my excuses for slack behavior, but that little face, ooohhh, that little face, she pulls out love from all sorts of pockets I never knew I had.

Right now, she has no other way in this world to learn about love, grace, joy, and sacrifice than in how we parent her. In our rocking, swaying, kissing, holding, calming, talking and playing we have the opportunity to paint a picture of a Good Father that endlessly loves and supports us. If we do not respond, or respond in frustration, selfishness, and half-heartedness, then we paint a darkened distorted picture of grace.

Oh Lord, please renew our strength to always show the children of this world who You truly are, a loving open-armed Father that never tires of holding us and is never half-hearted.

I am starting to do some cooking and baking again, mostly on the weekends when Stephen is here to love on her while my hands are busy. To be honest though I am sure there is nothing more delicious in this world that I could share than this smile. Enjoy every last second.

 

 

Trying to know how to begin...

This has to be the hardest post I have ever written. How do I start, write, or finish a post about labor, birthing, nursing, becoming a mom, our child, how I feel about it all, the good the bad the ugly, the exhaustion, the tears, the inadequacy, and the joy? How do I write the extreme emotions of fear, guilt, frustration, love, and deeper love? Yes, this is the hardest post I have ever written.

It seems so important to communicate honestly what the last five weeks have been, and for that I have struggled to find the time with both hands free, and my mind alert enough to think. Now, when I have a few stolen minutes, my mind is swimming with too many thoughts to write.

Maybe I will just start with now and work backwards. Now, I am in love. Every grin, grimace, and movement makes my heart jump. Her cries draw me in. Her smiles are more than any amount of anything you could ever bribe me with. She is our girl. I am completely devoted. We barely sleep, I hardly get to eat, she is rarely out of my arms, her greatest joy in life is nursing as much as possible, I sometimes have to hold her while I pee, and I love it. Sometimes I look out the window and see people coming and going and think to myself that I miss being able to get a lot done in a day, go where I want when I want, and sleep when I am tired, but all in all if we have to go through this temporary isolation in order to be able to have and love her, then I have come to terms with that. Coming to terms was not easy.

The first 16 days after labor my hormones were the devil. They taunted me with horrible thoughts of regret and frustration. My whole body ached (I will get to the part of the story where we labored for 41 hours... just hang on) Nursing was excruciating. We saw seven different lactation consultants, a chiropractor, and eventually an ENT that said she was tongue tied. She snipped her frenulum and after Canaan relearned her tongue, nursing became a whole different story. I once had blisters on my areola, now I just have a happy nursing baby.

When you want to nurse and are struggling, there is the most unreal sense of guilt you have ever felt. I am supposed to feed her and that is supposed to create a bond between us. Instead I was crying, desperate, and wanted to quit. We kept trying. Everyone has their advice and experiences. Some are more helpful than others. Some just made me feel more inadequate and made me question what the **** was wrong with me. Why couldn't I do this? Now, looking back on those thoughts I see how silly and futile they really are. It had nothing to do with me or Canaan. We needed some outside help. Thankfully we found it. Now, when I hold her and she watches me the whole time she nurses I am beginning to understand what people are talking about when they say how wonderful nursing is. This alluded me at first. My mom listened to me cry and just kept saying one day it will get better. She said it would be worth it. I am glad I believed her just enough to keep trying. Nursing babies can smell their moms in the house. Canaan knows me and she knows when I am near. As exhausting as this can be, it is a priviledge to be the one that she wants and needs.

Canaan is a survivor. It feels like she and I have had to fight for everything together over the last five weeks, and it all started with labor.

My water broke at 12:22am Friday June 3. We labored through the night, went to the birth center at 11am Friday, and waited. Labor never picked up. Contractions came and went and I slowly dilated. At 6am Saturday I started pushing. We pushed for four and a half hours. At this point in hour 36, I seriously felt I was dying. My face was so swollen that I could not see very well, my whole body had given everything it had and it just wasn't enough. Stephen and our friend Emily had been with me through every contraction. Faithful and strong they didn't leave me. We since have talked about how afraid they were as well. In modern America we often forget how scary and out of our control labor and birthing really is. People like to get on a high horse and shout "wimp!" at every woman that seeks a medicated labor, but I can honestly now say there are times when it will save a life. Thank God for it. Infection had started to set in and it was just a matter of time. Thank God for Doctors, hospitals, and medicine.We had done everything we could without it, and it wasn't enough to bring her into this world.

At 11:30am Saturday I was transferred to the hospital via an ambulance. They gave me an epidural and pitocin so that I would sleep and hopefully the contractions would pick up. At 4:30pm the Doctor came in and explained that he wanted to try a vacuum extraction. I prayerfully begged God to let this work.

It is hard to express how it feels to have your husband, best friend, family, midwife, nurses, and doctors as a ring of support shouting "Push!" through a stream of tears, while I prayed, "Please God. Hear our cries". 

Then, just like that, she cried. All pink and gorgeous, she cried.

Right now, I am not sure what else to type.

  

 

potato salad with dill

If you could see our farmer's market you would understand what I mean when I say it has to be one the best parts of living in this city. Sprawling, luscious, and abundant, it is impossible to pass a farmer without being offered a sample of a bleeding sweet strawberry or tomato. All of those southern drawls make the air thick and syrupy. I really love that place for its simplicity and life. Food seems more alive when it is warm from the sun and still has some dirt on it's edges.

When I went a few weeks ago, all of my love and adoration for produce, that went a bit dormant in the winter, was revived. Though I would never turn away to another love, food can become a bit uninteresting by the end of a season; like a magazine you have read several times. But then, the weather changes, and there are strawberries and tomatoes where only cabbages have sat for weeks on end, and the desire to cook is renewed with the first glance.

That happened with a bag of gorgeous red potatoes, gleaming white spring onions, and a bundle of fresh clipped dill. Dinner was decided in an instant. I love the power of the farmer's market to make a perfect meal impossible to ignore.

We made the salad and it was so simple, delicious, and repeatable, much like the market. Tonight we are headed to a cookout with Stephen's work and I am making it again. Alongside a fresh grilled burger and sliced tomatoes, oh this is so good.

 

Red Potato Salad with Dill serves 6 (can easily be doubled for a crowd)

12 small red potatoes

1/2 cup diced spring onion bulbs

1/4 to a 1/3 cup loosely packed minced fresh dill (use more or less depending on your preference)

1/2 cup mayo

2 or 3 tablespoons good quality grainy mustard (to taste depending on how strong of a mustard you are using)

salt and pepper

1. Scrub the potatoes and cut out any spots. Bring to a boil and boil until just fork tender. This takes about 25 minutes from when they boil

2. Drain the potatoes and let them cool in the fridge. Once cool enough to handle, cut into small chunks

3. Wash and mince the dill. Dice the onions. Mix the mayo and mustard together

4. Toss the vegetables and dill together. Gently fold in the dressing. Salt and pepper to taste. Enjoy!