Grateful

A giveaway, a book excerpt, and a favorite recipe

This little red-breasted nuthatch is one of our regular fall visitors. Isn’t he the cutest?

Last night, as I walked under a rosy sky, that moon waxed poetic, lifting its crescent up over the hills of our little valley as the disappearing sun set the sky on fire. This morning, when I took Bonnie out, frost still on every blade of grass, I saw the moon had shed his star-tears and left them in pools of light in our front yard.

I had to leave the house early for my yearly mammogram this morning. Why I would schedule such a thing the day before Thanksgiving is a question that still makes me shake my head. What when the floors still need sweeping and the table needs laid and the menu needs to be gone over one more time. But my maternal grandmother died of breast cancer, so this one is close to the heart. Scheduling the imaging this time of year has become a part of my holiday tradition now. Something about the vulnerability required of me as I step into the procedure softens my heart a little more, reminds me to take care of this body, that Thanksgiving dinner is not an emergency. As I slipped into one of those lovely front-opening hospital gowns prior to the deed, I whispered a little prayer of thanks for good medical care, for the faithfulness of this body I live in, and for the joy of being alive and breathing on this beautiful November morning. Take care of yourself, friends. This life is a gift.

This morning, as I prepare to knock off the items on my to-do list, I thought I’d do something a little different in this space. Today I am sharing an excerpt from my book, Playdates with God. It’s hard for me to believe this little book is eleven years old. It’s a collection of words that still makes my heart happy to re-visit, and the words still ring true—perhaps even more true for the passing of time. In celebration of this, I’d like to give away a copy of the book to one of my readers. Just leave a comment before next Wednesday, December 3 for a chance to win (I’m so sorry but the giveaway is limited to the continental US for economic reasons. My apologies for any disappointment there.). I’ll announce the winner on that post. This is a good time to remind you that signed books from your writer friends make wonderful Christmas gifts! If you are local, DM me and I’ll be happy to meet you somewhere around the valley with signed copies of my books for all your friends. Also, there are still a couple copies of Mildred’s Garden and The Honey Field already signed at my friend Connie’s coffee shop.

Outside, the wind is beginning to get blustery. The forecast is calling for a cold front to move in later tonight. Perfect for lighting a fire in the fireplace and enjoying a warm beverage with someone I love. In this week of gratitude, I hear the earth singing praise. I especially want to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to my paid subscribers. Your support of my work means so much to me. Thank you a thousand times for your generosity and belief in what I do here. Happy Thanksgiving, Beloveds. May all your days be filled with light. You are God’s gift to me.

To listen to this post:

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An excerpt from Playdates with God:

In mid-fall, as the goldenrod bend their heads low in the meadow behind my house—I visit the apiary.

It all started when I spoke at a ladies tea at a little country church in the valley where I live. The hostess served honey from her husband’s hives, and I was blown away. “It tastes like sweet clover,” I told her, as I sipped tea with my pinky raised. She smiled and nodded her head. This was entirely different from that syrupy stuff I buy in the bear-shaped bottle at the grocery.

Every day after that, I think about the bees. In the night, I dream of honey. When I awaken, I carry a memory of amber—a dewy sweetness on my tongue. I cannot shake the taste of it. So, I Google up local beekeepers and I talk to the state bee inspector on the phone and my father-in-law calls a friend of his who keeps bees.

“In the Bible, honey represents purity,” the Department of Agriculture’s state bee inspector tells me. “I think there must be bees in heaven,” he says. I think about that little taste of honey from the tea and it seems to me that maybe a little piece of heaven is already here.

I read all the scriptures in my Bible about honey and I look up the original Hebrew in my concordance. The word used for honey in many of the scriptures refers to the distilled version of a watery sweetness that exists naturally. It is the refined essence of the substance—the richest part.

So. After weeks of waiting, when the goldenrod bend their heads low in the meadow behind my house, I visit the apiary. “That’s how you know the goldenrod is nectaring,” the beekeeper tells me. “The tops are so heavy they fall over.”

We walk into the apiary under a shower of walnut tree leaves. They float slowly to the ground like tiny canoes, sailing the air. I breathe in deep, thinking of honey. The farm smells like woodsmoke and decaying leaves. The sky is blue marble.

I hear the steady thrum of thousands of beating wings rise into that familiar buzz while we are still within a hundred yards of the colonies. The sound thrills me but I feel my heart begin to slow with the low resonance that emanates from the hives. He aims his smoker at the bees flying about the first hive. I watch him open the tall box-like structures and use his tools to remove one frame at a time. He lifts a frame, points out the shiny honey down in each little dimple.

The bees light haphazardly on my arms and midsection and on the veil I am wearing—they seem as curious about me as I am of them. I close my eyes and let the sound of their greeting fill—that low buzz pressing down around me. I know the smoke has made them docile, triggering them to consume as much honey as they can and slowing them down with the weight of it. They are afraid we have come to steal their golden treasure, and so they hide it the best way they know: inside their bulging abdomens.

He lets me take pictures of his bees, hunts out the queen for me to see. He is a good teacher—patient and kind. After he closes up the hives, he shows me his workshop. He makes beeswax candles and sells them. His wife has won numerous awards for baking with honey and her blue ribbons hang on the wall by the door. He teaches candlemaking classes and gives talks about beekeeping.

He tells me about how the honeybees make honey—this refining into the richest essence. He tells me how, after collecting nectar, the bees return to the hive and pass it on to other worker bees. These worker bees chew the nectar for a while allowing enzymes to break down the complex sugars in the nectar into simple sugars. This makes the nectar easier to digest as well as resistant to bacteria. The nectar is then deposited throughout the honeycombs of the hive. Here, water evaporates from it, making it a thicker syrup. The bees use their wings to fan the nectar and accelerate the thickening process. Then, the honey is sealed with a plug of wax and stored until it is eaten.

By us or them.

But listen to this.

The beekeeper tells me about the dance of the honey bee. When a bee finds a particularly lush feeding ground—a place rich with pollen or nectar—they return to the hive and by way of giving the other bees directions to this Eden…they dance. The Honey Bees dance to communicate where a good food source is. The way they dance communicates direction and distance. The distance is communicated by the shape of the dance. Direction is communicated by the angle a bee will bisect her dance with, with respect to the sun. The dance is like the face of a clock, with the sun representing twelve o’clock. If the bee dances from six to twelve o’clock, this means to fly straight towards the sun; eight to one o’clock would mean fly just to the right of the sun; twelve to six o’clock, fly directly away from the sun.

And the honeybee is a brilliant mathematician. See, these little dances sometimes can take a long time. So the angle of the sun will sometimes have changed during the dancing. The bee will calculate the change in angle based on where the sun is at the time of the dance.

Scientists have been amazed at how accurately the bee dance communicates where the food is. Isn’t this remarkably beautiful? So I start thinking about this dance. How this dance is the first step in the honeymaking—in the refining process. And—in our lives—isn’t the refining the conforming? This hard work of life the way God uses to make us more like Jesus? And, isn’t this God’s desire for us too—that we dance through the refining? That our lives represent the richest essence of humanity? That as we—do our work, make our art—we would dance through this refinement?

I think about the dance and how each dance is different for each bee; depending on where that bee is, what that bee desires to communicate. I wonder if conformity, in this sense, is what we look like when we join every unique part of ourselves with Jesus? This place where we are, what we desire to communicate, our work, our art—all joined as closely as we can with Jesus. We are united with him but we still retain our own unique qualities too.

When I think of conformity in this way, it’s easier to imagine that each of us…will express this in different ways—reflecting the glorious variety and diversity in creation that reflects the very image of God. … Because the Divine is infinite, we can all bear the Holy image and yet look different from one another.

Conformed.

And yet free to embrace who we are.

Now that is something to dance about.

The above is a modified excerpt from my book, Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith in a Grown-up World, copyright 2014. Used with permission from Leafwood Publishers, an imprint of Abilene Christian University Press. All rights reserved.

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AND, bonus, here is one of my favorite holiday recipes. It’s quick and easy to make and absolutely delicious! Seriously, if you aren’t so sure of artichokes? Try this. One year, I dropped a bit on the floor after Thanksgiving dinner and Bonnie gobbled it up! If your dog eats the artichoke, then you know it must be good :).

My Famous Artichoke Dip

14 oz artichokes, drained
8 oz Swiss cheese (grated)
1 envelope Lipton garlic and herb
soup mix, (if I can’t find this I
simply use French onion with
1tblsp. each of garlic powder,
sage, thyme, and celery flakes)
or make your own.

Mix ingredients together in small casserole dish. Bake at 350̊ for 30 minutes. I like to sprinkle a little Parmesan cheese on top (because it’s not cheesy enough!) Serve hot with baguettes or your favorite crackers.