By Sherry Collins

“An intelligent heart acquires knowledge, and the ear of the wise seeks knowledge.” Proverbs 18:15

Last week, Terry and I finished a book that we had been reading aloud together. I recorded the book in my Goodreads App and watched in pure delight as confetti fell across my screen. The falling confetti marked my accomplishment of reaching my goal of reading 66 books in 2021. I later finished two more books, but, unfortunately, no more confetti!

Earlier this year, I read I’d Rather Be Reading: The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life by Ann Bogel. It felt like I was reading my own personal memoir as a bibliophile. One quote in her book is the reason why I love doing this post annually. And I can say annually because this is my third year sharing my favorite reads of the year. Ann says, “When we share our favorite titles, we can’t help but share ourselves as well.  Shakespeare said the eyes are the windows to the soul, but we readers know one’s bookshelves reveal just as much.”

I am going to share with you five books that are windows into my soul. These books added beauty, contemplation and/or self-discovery for me. Some of the titles were like opening Pandora’s box, opening the door to genres or authors I hadn’t read before. Again, it was hard to narrow it down to five books. One observation I made immediately was that I didn’t include any fiction in the list. I did read some fiction this year, but a lot of it was light-hearted.  One book, All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr, was a reread, and although the book is beautifully written, I wanted this list to be first-time reads only. Thus, I am making it a goal to read some more fiction next year to add beauty to my life.

So, let the confetti fall (because we all need more confetti) and here is the list!

1. A Fine Romance: Falling in Love with the English Countryside by Susan Branch. I absolutely love this book. As the reader, you join Susan and her husband on a tour of the English countryside, exploring gardens, homes, art, and people. It includes hand-drawn sketches, photographs and even some recipes. It’s the best form of armchair traveling, accompanied by a scone and a cup of tea. If this quote makes you fall in love with the book, it’s for you. Susan says, “England reminds me of a quote I saw on a packet of Swiss Miss instant cocoa mix: ‘Like a basket of drinkable kittens, wrapped in a blanket, next to a fireplace.’” She handwrites her books, that are then actually reprinted. This can make it challenging to read if you have any vision issues.
2. The Way Through the Woods: Of Mushrooms and Mourning by Long Litt Woon. Nature writing has become one of my new favorite genres. This book on mushrooms made it to the top despite my constant recommendation for others to read the The Hidden of Life Trees. Long Litt Woon’s Norwegian husband dies unexpectedly, and she embarks on a journey of grief that she didn’t ask for. She says, “Grief grinds slowly. It devours all the time it needs.” She enrolls in a mushroom course and “the mushroom outings gave me the push I needed to get out of the house and take part in life.” She interweaves the fascinating facts of mushrooms with her own self discovery. I found myself delighted in God’s design with mushrooms like the blue fairy tale mushroom and the Witches Caldron. I wept as she arrived at the realization that she would never travel to certain place because of the books her husband left unread on his nightstand. It helped me process my own grief this year and prepared me to grieve the loss of my uncle.
3. Humility: The Journey Toward Holines by Andrew Murray. This little book was recommended on many different podcasts, convincing me that God wanted me to read this it. The turn-of-the-century author was a South African missionary who challenges Christians to posture themselves in humility. He outlines how Jesus himself modeled humility in everything he did. He says, “Humility is nothing but the disappearance of self in the vision that God is all.” He also remarks, “Here is the path to the higher life: down, and lower down! Just as water always seeks and fills the lowest place, so the moment God finds men abased and empty, His glory and power flow in to exalt and to bless.” This is a slow read, I often sat rereading scriptures he recorded and his brief commentary. It is the type of book that you must let marinate in your soul to get the full benefit. It’s my hearts cry, and one I will revisit again and again.
4. The Soul of Shame: Retelling the Stories We Believe about Ourselves by Curt Thompson. This book changed my thinking on how I respond to sin in my life and in the lives of others. Thompson says, “Guilt is something I feel because I have done something bad. Shame is something I feel because I am bad.” For the Christian, this feeling of shame hinders us from becoming who God intended us to be, restoring us to an abundant life. He encourages Christians to change their cultures where shame is exposed “allowing room for healing and creativity.” He suggests, “In an environment where we are unafraid, mistakes are not our enemies but our friend.” In an age where so many people are deconstructing their faith, this book helped me to see how Christians can create healthy environments.
5. Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes by Shauna Niequist. This book is part cookbook and part memoir about the author’s relationship to food and hospitality. Although this book was written many years ago, her concept of hospitality resonated in a world that is so divided. She says, “The heart of hospitality is about creating space for someone to feel seen and heard and loved. It’s about declaring your table a safe zone, a place of warmth and nourishment.” Her love for cookbooks led me down a rabbit hole of reading cookbooks cover to cover. I have learned a lot about food, culture, and the importance of tradition in the various cookbooks I have read.

Honorable Mention: Is Rape A Crime?: A Memoir, an Investigation, and a Manifesto by Michelle Bowdler. This book is graphic, hard, and disturbing on so many levels. It made me question some of my assumptions of what is considered evidence and how can we prosecute rape that doesn’t further traumatize the victim while still protecting the rights of the accused.

I would also like to briefly share three podcasts that have inspired me and encouraged me:

Being Known with Curt Thompson, MD. This podcast explores Thompson’s books in depth and the importance of beauty and community. This podcast is paradigm changing.

Unedited with Meg Najera. Meg Najera is from Wisconsin, and although we have never met, we have friends in common, that led me to this podcast. Najera gives simple tips to help establish the spiritual discipline of reading your Bible. She closes each podcast with reading an unedited journal entry. Her writings are insightful and beautifully written. She crafts sentences with artistry that inspires me to be a better writer. She will be publishing a book soon, and I’ll be first to buy it!

Cherry Bombe. I started listening to this podcast after reading Yasmin Kahn’s newest cookbook, Ripe Figs. After googling her, I listened to her interview on the podcast. The premise is to interview and celebrate women in the food industry while raising awareness of important issues. The podcast has raised my curiosity about food, small business owners and culture. I am not endorsing all the conclusions that Cherry Bombe draws, but I do believe their stories are compelling. One of my favorites was Episode 204: Rescuing Grandma’s Recipes with Anna Francese Gass. Gass wanted to write down her Italian’s mom recipe for meatballs. This led her to interview countless immigrant woman in their kitchens, cooking with them and learning the stories behind their signature dish, and writing down the recipe. She compiled the recipes into a book. These interviews were priceless insights into culture, history, and life.

I hope this blog inspires you to read and listen to both books and podcasts in the upcoming year. I would love to hear what your favorite books or podcasts were in 2021. And, yes, your suggestions will enlarge my TBR (to be read list in bibliophile vernacular) list.

Finally, I have added a new donation button on my blog. If you have been blessed by my writing and would like to support my writing endeavors, please consider buying me a cup of coffee. Just go to my home page and scroll down! This can be a one-time donation or even a regular one if you so desire. These donations will help offset the cost of my domain and yearly WordPress fees. If you are unable to give, no worries, Graceful Transitions will continue!

“The righteous person perishes, and no one takes it to heart; the faithful are taken away, with no one realizing that the righteous person is taken away because of evil. He will enter into peace – they will rest on their beds – everyone who lives uprightly.” Isaiah 57 1-2 CSB

I was born in Wisconsin and grew up with cheese as my second language. From an early age, I knew that fresh cheese curds should squeak, how to properly eat string cheese, and what aged meant in terms of cheese. American cheese was referred to as an artificial plastic cheese food and cheddar was king! We took pride in being the inventors of Colby cheese and even if California was technically the dairy state, we still wore our cheese heads proudly at Packers’ games!

A family favorite in our home was aged brick cheese, purchased from Gibbsville, a local cheese artisan. This soft, pale white cheese is considered a part of the cheddar family and was first created in Wisconsin. As it ages, it develops a pungent odor that some believe resembles dirty feet. Yet, if you can get past the distinct order, and slice it thin, this cheese melts in your mouth and its creamy texture and taste leave you wanting more. Someone recently shared with me that as you eat these strong cheeses, like blue cheese, Limburger, and Brick, your taste-buds change the smell as you are eating the cheese, making it more pleasing to you. I may have liked brick cheese as a child but haven’t been able to get past the smell as an adult.

December is wrapping up, along with 2021, and I am so looking forward to a fresh start in 2022. I’ve been transparent about this having been a tough year on so many levels. I remember in early November sharing with God that I felt like I was stretched thin, and couldn’t handle any more challenges, begging for peace. But within a few weeks, we had a job loss, an email that set a boundary I didn’t understand, and my uncle died unexpectedly. I felt like my world was unraveling and I could barely hold it together. I went through the motions of living but felt distant and numb. The only thing I could cling to was my relationship with God and His faithfulness.

It’s so easy to look on the outside and not see the goodness of God working at all when life is hard. If I take an honest look at this past year, and made a list of pros and cons, the cons will outweigh the pros. Yet, just like the stinky brick cheese, I must get past the stinky life situations, most of which I have no control of, and believe that God is working through these difficult situations. Notice, I said He is working though these difficult situations, not around them, not despite them, but through them. I must trust the process and believe that God is using these situations to build my trust and faith. Furthermore, He is using these situations to bring light to some areas in my life where I need healing and clarity.

Some of that healing comes through the process of confession. I am talking about finding a select few friends with whom you can be honest about your feelings. For me, that looked like sharing with my husband and a few friends that I was struggling with believing in the goodness of God. It was telling someone that I felt like I was a failure. It was being honest with all the difficulties and how I wanted to stay in bed during the holidays and only get up to play with my grandson.

 I spent most of Sunday afternoon and Monday being authentic with a few friends. My situations haven’t changed, but my perspective has changed. No one tried to fix me, instead they listened and validated the challenges. They demonstrated compassion and allowed me to be not ok. It helped me clear the air and not put on a facade that everything was fine. It helped me exhale all the hard parts in my life and inhale the love, compassion, and empathy from others. And it changed me.

This change was not a magic pill that made everything look and feel great. Instead, it was more subtle, but still life giving. It helped me release some of the burdens I was never meant to carry, and truly give them to God. It meant that I spent some time praying with my husband asking God to demonstrate His goodness and work in situations that will clearly display His glory. It meant that I wasn’t alone and that these situations are hard. It gave me glimmers of hope!

 I have no idea how some of these situations are going to end up next year. I can’t even imagine the solutions or paths that God has prepared for me. As author Lysa TerKeurst often says, “I do know that God is good, He’s good to me and He’s good at being God.” That is what I am clinging to! The stinky situations still stink, but I am choosing to embrace them, and let God work through them, just like sometimes you need to get past the smell of Brick cheese to truly enjoy it.

 Finally, I am choosing to end my year reflecting on some truly beautiful moments I have experienced over the last twelve months. Those beautiful moments will help shift my perspective and help me imagine a better year. I want to thank you for taking the time to read my blog, and I hope it has been a blessing to you. Happy New Year!

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” Romans 12:15

Christmas is a few days away; the presents are under the tree, and I have a few cookies left to bake. I am looking forward to all my family being together under one roof. Last year was supposed to be our Christmas to host, but with all the COVID-19 restrictions, our Rhode Island family couldn’t travel. Additionally, my daughter ended up working her first holiday in the hospital on Christmas Eve. For the first time in our married life, Terry and I were alone on Christmas Eve!

It would have been easy to focus on all the losses of the Christmas season, after all, we were missing our grandson’s first Christmas. Instead, Terry and I chose to make the most of the holiday. We ordered gourmet pastries from our favorite bakery and brisket with sides from a local BBQ joint. Additionally, Terry surprised me with a Hot Chocolate Bomb and a jug of my favorite iced latte from Denim Coffee. We stayed in our pajamas on Christmas Eve, lit candles, curled up in blankets, and read some wintry books. We responded to some texts, listened to Christmas music, and Face-timed with family. But, mostly, just relaxed, discussed what we were reading, and enjoyed the silent night.

I wish I could say that this idea was original, but it stems from an Icelandic tradition called Jolabokaflod. It started during World War II when paper was one of the few things not being rationed. Icelanders altered their Christmas gift exchange by choosing to give books to one another. In 1944, Jolabokaflod was reinforced by the book trade, which published a catalog of books to be released before the holidays. Today, as soon as the catalog is released, Icelanders rush to order the books ahead as gifts. After exchanging the books on Christmas Eve, they find cozy nooks in their homes to read, accompanied by a hot beverage and dark chocolate. This is my idea of perfection, and it helped make last Christmas memorable!

I am aware Christmas is not a joyous season for everyone. Maybe, it’s the first holiday a family spends without a loved one. Maybe, past Christmases have been disappointing, leaving someone feeling like the holiday is overrated. Maybe, it’s been a hard year and choosing to celebrate feels difficult and burdensome. Whatever the reason, Christmas this year may feel challenging and difficult. It is easy to be on the outside and try to encourage people we care about to celebrate anyway, but is that really the best response?

Through a lot of different podcasts and books, especially the works of Curt Thompson, I am learning the importance of validating someone else’s feelings. I remember sharing with someone last Christmas that I was sad about my son and his family not being able to come for Christmas, and the person responded, “Well, it’s probably better they don’t come.” I already understood the wisdom of the decision, but the facts didn’t lessen my loss. The same person went on to talk about their grandchildren and the gifts they would be opening together, knowing my grandson’s gift would remain wrapped.

While that person may have been trying to help, I was left feeling dismissed and invalidated. I had another friend who responded differently. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I know this is hard for you and I am here if you want to talk.” This simple response gave me room to express my loss and that what I was feeling was fair and real. I didn’t have to put on a smile and pretend everything was okay.

 After Mary’s angelic visitation, she was left to deal with the judgmental responses of those around her. Nothing about her situation was easy: an unwed, pregnant woman was going to be the talk of her village. And we don’t even know how long it took for Joseph to make his decision whether to put away his fiancée. This poor young woman was left alone to deal with the gossip and rumors, until she went to visit her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth, through the Spirit of God, recognized that the babe in Mary’s womb was from God, but she didn’t just quietly affirm Mary’s situation. Instead, the Bible says that Elizabeth spoke with a loud voice, “Blessed are you among woman, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” Elizabeth’s response gave Mary the boldness to respond differently to her situation, resulting in Mary’s song found in Luke 1:46-55, starting with, “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

Terry and I were able to work through our loss and find a resolution that redeemed the holidays for us. But not everyone is able to do that. And that’s okay. Instead, if I have a friend who is having a hard holiday, I hope to offer the same helpful support that I received. I will listen to their feelings, acknowledge that the situation is hard, and be there if they want to talk. And just maybe this will help them work through their feelings and find their own way to redeem the holidays.

And even though my family will be with me this Christmas, I may choose to sneak away for twenty minutes, find a cozy book, and read, accompanied by some dark chocolate!

“And she shall bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.” Matthew 1:21 NKJV

Every family has its own Christmas traditions. Some families have matching festive pajamas, others watch certain movies, and some may even love fruit cake (although I have never met this particular family). The Collins are no exception to traditions. We bake Dishpan Cookies, watch the movie “Holiday Inn”, and listen to “The Cinnamon Bear”, an old radio show. We have one tradition that I am confident no other family shares, on a biannual basis we would read, as a family, Whirligig House, a children’s book written by Anna Maria Rose Wright.

I can say this with confidence for multiple of reasons. First, the book was published in 1951 and it is no longer in print. It also hasn’t won any awards and I’ve never seen it on a list of books every child must read. It only has two reviews on Amazon, one of which is from my husband. Yet, despite its lackluster reputation, this old beige book is a treasure in our home. It sits in our blue library cabinet protected by glass doors. It is the one material possession of ours that both my children want, which is why I hope someday to procure a second copy.

Terry was the first person to discover this book as a library page in Junior high. Opening the pages, he grew fascinated with the family of five children and their adventures. The story starts near Christmas Eve, with the children learning that their mother is seriously ill with tuberculosis. She is sent to a sanatorium for a year, and the kids learn to pull together and self-govern themselves to avoid their dreaded Aunt Tatty’s schemes to divide the family. The book ends with a Christmas scene of the mother returning that rivals the final scene of “It’s A Wonderful Life!”

Terry told me about the book shortly after we started dating. I could tell that this book would make an amazing present, so I began to hunt for the book in antique and bookstores. This was before eBay was popular, or Amazon had Prime, when dial-up was the only way to connect to the web. I searched for months for the book, even calling his old school to see if they would be willing to sell the book. Despite these obstacles, I finally managed to purchase a copy of the book for his birthday in December our first year of marriage. As he unwrapped the book, the look of joy he had on his face has only been surpassed with the birth of our children and grandson. We started reading the book together as a couple that year and have since shared the love of this book with our children. About six years ago, we read it aloud with our kids one last time during the Christmas season, realizing that this era as a family was ending. Hopefully, we will pick up the book again with our grandchildren, sharing the delight of the Christmas Eve feast, Buster joining the choir, and envisioning what a licorice bed looked like!

 If you looked in our house, you would find other items that appear with more glitter or look more valuable. You would likely miss Whirligig House on the shelf, surrounded by beautiful copies of Pilgrim’s Progress and Les Misérables. Yet, of all the books in our home, next to the Bible, this book is probably at the top of everyone’s list. It’s worn, beige with simple lettering, and plain. Nothing about it indicates the value it holds for our family.

But isn’t that the same with the story of Christmas, nothing about the circumstances of Jesus’ birth seem valuable or special. He was born in a stable with animals instead of a palace and had shepherds as visitors instead of a royal procession. The only hints that there was something extraordinary about this birth were the angelic visits and gifts from the wise men. Yet, this tiny baby held the hope for the whole world. His chubby little fingers would later perform miracles for the masses. His tiny little mouth would speak words of encouragement, teach principles, and fulfill prophesies. His little feet would walk many miles to meet with sinners and the broken-hearted, and later walk to his own death. His little body would grow to healthy adulthood only to be broken on the cross, not because of his own actions, but because of my sinful actions. And three days later, his resurrected body would give me a hope that someday my broken life would be fully restored.

We all have traditions, and our family traditions become more valuable to us at Christmas. They unify and define us. They might be wrapped up and put away to open year after year, or like mine, they might sit in a bookshelf all year. But as much as I value Whirligig House, the birth of Jesus grows more precious to me year after year. I echo C.S. Lewis: “Once in our world, a stable had something in it that was bigger than our whole world.” And I believe what John wrote: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Yes, Jesus’ birth may have seemed “less than” to those around him, but, to me, this baby being born in a stable is more precious to me than any mere possession!

And Mary said: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.” Luke 1:46-47

 Years ago. visions of sugarplums danced in my head whenever my mother would take us to the Wonder Bread/Hostess store. We strolled among racks of Ding Dongs, Twinkies, and Ho-Ho’s amazed and delighted at the bounty before us! I passed by all these confectionery delights looking for my favorite: Hostess Cupcakes. I fantasized about the two chocolate cupcakes filled with sweet cream in the center, topped with chocolate frosting and the trademark vanilla swirl stripe. My mother would typically add a few of these to her basket, and I couldn’t wait to get home to peel off the plastic wrapper and start devouring my cupcake!

Forty years later, my tastes have changed, and Hostess cupcakes no longer impress me. I still love cupcakes, preferring upscale bakeries such as Georgetown Cupcakes. This tiny corner bakery is located on M Street outside of Washington DC. This intersection is busy, filled with little shoppes and restaurants, surrounded by historic brownstones. My wonderful husband deals with the crazy traffic and narrow side streets, dropping me off at the corner, while I wait in line for cupcakes. Rarely does he complain but indulges me by driving around in circles while I make my purchase. We then drive home, and two hours later, I squeal in delight over flavors like the Chocolate Peppermint Ganache cupcake, savoring its sweetness.

Christmas is the season for delight: twinkling lights, decorated trees, wrapped presents, and Christmas carols. In my home, you often hear Andy Williams bellow “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” while I bake Christmas cookies or write out cards. Even Maxwell House Coffee tugs at your heartstrings with its sentimental commercials, usually a homecoming, that warms your soul. In general, the world feels calmer, at peace, and full of hope. Harlan Miller, a 20^th century columnist, said, “I wish we could put up some of the Christmas spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month.”

This same sense of delight and wonder is found in the story that makes Christmas possible: the birth of Jesus. This year, I am choosing to read the Biblical account repeatedly throughout December. I want my “soul to magnify the Lord” as Mary embraces her miracle. I want to be obedient to the voice of God, putting aside all my pride, as Joseph did when the angel spoke to him on three separate occasions. I want to stand in awe with the shepherds as the angels sing “Glory to God in the highest.”  I want to lift my eyes up to heaven with Simeon declaring that “my eyes have seen your salvation.” I want to thank God for my redemption as Anna did in the temple. Finally, I want to fall and worship with joy as the wise men did when they saw Jesus, recognizing his royalty.

The word “delight” is recorded multiple times in the Psalms, encouraging us to delight in things like the law and commandments of the Lord. But this word is also found in prophecy. We don’t know much about the prophet Malachi except that he prophesied at a time when Israel was returning from exile. Although the remnant was glad to be back in Jerusalem, they knew that this wasn’t the final plan. God had foretold about a Messiah who would come to redeem and restore the people of God. In Malachi 3:1, he prophesies, “Behold I send my messenger…in whom you delight.”  This future messenger is Jesus, and we are supposed to delight in Him.

There have been a lot of challenges this past year. We switched churches, dealt with a serious injury, faced the unexpected deaths of two uncles, contracted COVID-19, and suffered a recent job loss. These are just the surface challenges; additionally, we’ve had to work through some emotional and relational issues. I could look at this list and easily fall into despair since I am still waiting on some resolutions. But I would miss some of the highlights this year has given me: my daughter’s engagement, feeling connected to a new faith community, growing in God, celebrating our 25^th anniversary, watching my grandson grow, and quality time spent with family and friends.

 Yes, I delight in cupcakes, but even if I eat slowly, this delight lasts for only a few minutes. Soon, the memory fades, making this feeling of delight a temporary situation. But just like the cupcake, my challenges are temporary. Over time, they will be resolved one way or the other. Even the memory of my highlights will fade because they, too, are temporary. But, If I keep my eyes on the messenger like Malachi suggested, and celebrate His birth, the delight I will find in Jesus is eternal. And maybe this eternal hope in Jesus is the feeling Harlan Miller wanted to open monthly, making every day “the most wonderful time of the year!”

“Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after the wind.” Ecclesiastes 4:11 ESV

About eighteen years ago, Judy Stock, the owner of “Wonderful World” coffee shop in Sheboygan, WI, was a marketing genius. She sold addictive caffeinated drinks for mothers, coupling it with a live folk music half hour for children. Judy played her banjo and jaw harp, singing children’s songs, while I sat at a table with friends, drinking a latte or espresso shake. After spending one morning at “Wonderful World”, I decided to bring home a new treat for my husband: chocolate covered espresso beans. After a little coaxing, Terry tried one bean and found it to be delicious. Six hours later, Terry lay in bed wide awake, realizing eating a small bag of espresso beans right before bed was not the best idea.

The Christmas season is in full swing, with Black Friday gone and the hours left for Cyber Monday slowly dwindling. My home is fully decorated, with gnomes and reindeer having taken up residence. The Piano Guys are on repeat, while my favorite “Jolly” mug is filled with coffee. I love how Christmas makes my home feel: softer with the white garland of pompoms that drapes across my favorite sign, calmer with twinkle lights that add warm glow, and more peaceful with baby Jesus laying in the manger.

For the past few years, I have been changing how I approach Christmas. Too often, Christmas was a season of me trying to capture all the magical moments I could. These included baking dozens of cookies, hosting a hot chocolate party, writing out Christmas cards, trying to squeeze in all the wonderful events in the community, watching all my favorite Christmas movies, and reading some Christmas favorites. Christmas didn’t feel calm or peaceful, it felt like a lot of hustle and bustle. Even typing this list causes my heart to race faster and my anxiety to increase. None of what I was doing was bad or harmful. They were all wonderful additions to add to the merriment of the season. But just like too many chocolate-covered espresso beans that kept Terry awake, too much of a good thing can end up causing some unnecessary stress.

Now, I approach Christmas trying to do less, and finding it gives me more. I buy less, not because I don’t enjoy gift buying, but am more intentional with what I buy. I watch less, because I want to be more present with my husband, by reading a book aloud, or putting together a puzzle. I bake smaller amounts, because I want to have more energy at the end of the season instead of being in a sugar coma. I participate in less activities, making more space to have time for reflection on the true meaning of Christmas.

To be honest, I still do way too much. I haven’t mastered this. Just this past Thanksgiving weekend, I was about to bake two different types of donuts and a muffin for brunch. My wise daughter stepped in and reminded me that two different donuts and a muffin were not necessary. I compromised by only making one doughnut and a muffin. This honey nut squash muffin with maple bourbon glaze was an involved recipe, requiring a long list of ingredients and multiple steps, but resulting in only six muffins. In the end, I was the only one who loved the pseudo-nutritional muffins. I could have saved myself some time and effort by keeping it simple, making only one doughnut.

Coco Chanel, the famous designer, told women when they were accessorizing their outfits, “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.” I’ve heard interior designers, writers, artists, and chefs echo the same thing about their craft: eliminate one item on your shelf, one sentence in your blog, one flower in your painting and one ingredient in your dish. This simple elimination of one item, makes the room more cohesive, the blog more concise, the painting more beautiful and the dish more balanced. I think Coco Chanel’s philosophy is not only applicable to creatives, but also to our ordinary lives. We need to create room in our lives for wholeness, beauty, and balance. And for some of us who add a lot of extra in our life, maybe we just need to eliminate one thing in our holiday traditions.

This year, as we were putting ornaments on the tree, I realized that we had too many ornaments for our now smaller tree. We got rid of some we no longer liked, simplifying our tree a bit. I even put less on some shelves and kept some of my décor packed away. I think this simplification helped create the atmosphere of warmth, peace, and calm in my home. I want the feeling of peace and calm that is reflected in my décor to be reflected in my heart as well. This will only happen if I continue to simplify my life. So, once again, I am emphasizing that less is more this season.

If you find yourself already feeling anxious and it is not even the first of December, maybe try to follow Coco Chanel’s advice: look at your calendar and eliminate one thing. And, just maybe, this will help the season be calmer and more peaceful for you.

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances;” 1Thessalonians 5:16-17

Thanksgiving is almost here. My menu has been planned, house has been cleaned and I have already started prepping for the big day. All my family will be here in a few hours. This has always been one of my favorite holidays, indulging in some family favorites while expressing gratefulness to God for His many blessings. Its time spent around the table, laughing, reminiscing, and remembering God’s faithfulness.

 About ten years ago, I read Ann Voskamp’s “One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are”. It chronicles her spiritual discipline of recording God’s simple gifts every day. These are not limited to a surprise visit from a friend, or an increase in pay. Instead, these blessings are found in the mundane events of an all-too-ordinary life. This practice shifts her focus to God, and, in turn, transforms her thinking. Ann writes, “And when I give thanks for the seemingly microscopic, I make a place for God to grow within me.” She later concludes, “A life contemplating the blessings of Christ becomes a life acting the love of Christ.”

I would love to encourage all of you to rush out and buy your own copies of this book. Read it not just once, but maybe make it a habit to read every couple of years. Underline passages that speak to you, take notes, and ponder her thoughts. However, I recognize her poetic prose may not speak to everyone. So, I will share with you, in my not so poetic prose, how practicing the spiritual discipline of gratitude has changed my life.

I have a bright orange “Wake Up & Be Awesome” journal that I have been using to record my daily gratitude. Sunlight usually streams through my window, as I sit in my favorite chair with a cup of coffee, reflecting on the previous day. I think about what has transpired and record thoughts like “looking at baby clothes for my grandson”, “puddles of maple syrup in my oatmeal”, and “the soft glow of my pink salt lamp.” Some days, thoughts come quickly, and I record them with passion and joy.

 But, like most people, some days, tears blur my vision and it’s hard to see any blessings. Those are the days when disappointments seem like mountains, hurts feel like stab wounds that bleed continuously, and God seems so far away. Yet, I force myself to write in my journal that almost mocks me with its brightness. I sigh deeply as I consider what I can write that would express sincere gratefulness. And then, a moment flashes in my mind. It might be “a simple text from a friend saying she was thinking of me”, or “a hug from my husband that made me feel safe”, or a “picture of Joel up to mischief that Rachel sent”. Although my situation may not have changed, the simple act of writing down blessings shifts my focus from what is hard to a reminder of God’s faithfulness and promises. These holy moments result in miracles of peace and contentment inside my soul.

I’ve learned that gratitude is easy when blessings flow, life is smooth, and all is well. However, I have also learned that gratitude is easier when life is hard if I have cultivated the practice on a regular basis. Like all habits, it can be hardwired into my brain to respond to all situations with a grateful heart. This is not ignoring the tough situations or viewing them through rose-colored glasses. Instead, it is reframing them through the eyes of God and His perspective. It doesn’t erase the hurt or pain, but it reminds me that God has a plan, and His plans are good!

My brightly colored journal will be filled at the end of this year. For my birthday, I received a new grateful journal from my son and daughter-in-law. It’s not bright yellow, but snowy white with the words “Simply Grateful” etched in gold on the cover. This guided journal has a space not only to write down what I am grateful for in the morning, but also space to reflect in the evening. I am excited to start a new practice, ending my day with written thoughts focused on God. I’ve seen the fruits of daily taking a few moments of being grateful, and I eagerly anticipate the work God will do in me when I end my evening reflecting on Him!

Thanksgiving, by its very name, is the holiday focused on being grateful. Yet, in 48 hours, my fridge will be filled with leftovers, autumn decorations will have been taken down, and Christmas merriment will have begun. But, as I continue the practice of thankfulness in my daily life, true thanksgiving will continue to lead to eternal rewards! And that is a discipline that keep on giving!

“So God created man in his own image” Genesis 1:27

A few weeks ago, I spent some quality time with my six-year-old nephew and seven-year-old niece. We explored a museum, fed lettuce to giraffes, played a few games, and read lots of books. Like most children (and even most adults), they have definite opinions on what they like to eat and often voiced their disgust about certain types of food or cuisine. My sister, in trying to teach her children that not every opinion needs to be stated, has a family saying, “Don’t yuck my yum!” The motto came in handy when my niece and nephew commented on the smell of Indian food. I quietly reminded them, “Don’t yuck my yum!” However, it backfired on me when I told them that I didn’t like baked beans and my niece said, “Hey, that’s my yum!”

The concept of being created in God’s image is an old one, found in the very beginning of the Bible. But, until recently, I hadn’t fully comprehended the implications of what it meant. I understand that, as humans, we all have intrinsic value in the sight of God. What I didn’t understand was that all of us bear His image. Yes, we are individuals with different personalities, likes, interests, talents, styles, and tastes. But these differences should not separate us! Instead, these differences reflect different aspects of God and His innate creativity. For example, some lean toward the extrovert side of the scale, while others lean toward the introvert side. Both extroverts and introverts reflect the image of God and neither way of operating in the world is better than the other. Like the pieces of a puzzle, God made each of us different so that we could work together in community, allowing our differences to complement each other, create something beautiful, and illuminate God’s glory!

Mother Teresa once said, “If everyone could see the image of God in his neighbor, do you think we would still need tanks and generals?” I am not using this quote to engage in a discussion on the validity of the military, but if I extrapolate it out and apply it to my little corner of the world, I ask, “If I could see the image of God in my neighbors, would I be so quick to judge or label them?” The answer to this simple question changes my world in several ways.

 First, I need to align my definition of “neighbor” with Jesus’ definition in the parable of the Good Samaritan. The good neighbor reached out to someone who would have rejected him under normal circumstances. Too often, my neighbors are people with whom I share similar histories. It is easy to drop off a meal to a friend, but harder to reach out to someone who is not in my current circle. But isn’t this exactly what God expects me to do? He doesn’t encourage us to love our family and friends, He charges us to love our neighbors, those who are different from us.

Next, if I see them as an image-bearer of God, I am less inclined to see their differences as difficulties or obstacles for me to overcome. Even more so, I need to activate my curiosity in getting to know my neighbor, hearing their stories, and learning to understand their differences. These differences are shaped by their life, and, more importantly, their experiences need to be validated by God through me. As I become more curious and express genuine interest in their lives, I will be able to establish a relationship with them and love them the way Jesus loves them!

Finally, when I see others as image-bearers, it widens my view of God’s kingdom. When used to bring glory to God, our different talents and giftings can be more effective for the kingdom of God! For example, for years I thumbed my nose down at graphic novels. I considered them sub-literature. But a few podcasts that I love have extolled the virtues of a few well-written graphic novels. It has caused me to change my opinion and be more open-minded. Although I personally connect with the writings of C.S. Lewis and Ann Voskamp, others might connect better with a Christian graphic novelist. God can be reflected in any kind of writing, and I need to validate that and be willing to surrender my opinions and learn something new.

My sister is using the simple catchy phrase “Don’t yuck my yum!” to help her children be more polite. In a world that has become increasingly divisive, applying this phrase in my life is helping me to work at maintaining peace. I am choosing not to engage in polarizing opinions and choosing to listen to the heart of others who may have different opinions. I am looking at differences as an opportunity to learn and cultivate discussions. I am choosing to see my neighbors as image-bearers of God!

“The grass withers and the flowers fail, but the word of our God endures forever.” Isaiah 40:8

 It is the beginning of November with peak fall colors painting the landscape in southern PA. The brisk air invigorates me as I go about my daily walk, pausing occasionally to pick up a perfect leaf flaming in red and orange. I share Emily Bronte’s sentiment that “Every leaf speaks bliss to me/ Fluttering from the autumn tree.” This has always been, and will always be, my favorite season. The colors, smells, tastes and textures of autumn create this atmosphere of energy coupled with a sense of coziness that is hard to describe. It’s the time of the year when I wish life was a musical and I could sing about pumpkins, bonfires, and sweaters. As long as I live, I will never stop extolling the virtues of fall.

In looking back at previous blogs, I realized that I have written opposing perspectives relating to fall. In 2019, I wrote To Everything there is a Season about learning to let things go.  In 2020, I wrote about Autumn Abundance to remind myself of the importance of living an abundant life. In many ways, I think autumn is the season where we handle dichotomies with the most ease in our natural rhythms. The temperatures are dipping, as we welcome cozy sweaters and warm blankets. Trees drop their leaves, while squirrels dash to preserve seeds that may become future trees. The final days of harvest fill bins at the markets, while fields have become barren wastelands. The flowers on my patio slowly wither and die back while forests create the most magical displays of colors that I could ever hope to put in a vase!

The deeper significance of these dichotomies is in remembering that even as things die, there is still beauty to be found somewhere. I’ve seen this play out in my life repeatedly. This summer was a hard season due to some medical issues we faced. Vacations were cancelled, some dreams were put on hold, and goals had to be redefined. Yet, in the middle of the hardship, my husband and I managed to pick blueberries at Yellow Hill Farm, a local business that is as delightful as its name. I also made some syrup and froze some berries to be used later.

 Last week, we again faced some hard situations we have little control over. I admit, I was feeling stressed and a bit hopeless. As we ran some errands last Saturday, my mind was whirling around, analyzing the situations. and coming up with worst-case scenarios in my head. One of these errands including picking up a variety of apples at a local orchard. I went to bed that night, desperate for a sign that God was hearing my heartache.

That Sunday, God ministered to me in a deep way in my Life Group, the small groups our church uses to foster community and spiritual growth. After asking my friends to pray with me, I felt God was comforting me and reminding me that He was orchestrating things behind the scenes. Although nothing has changed and the situations remain uncertain, I have a peace that God IS working!

 Monday morning, I took the blueberries of my hard summer and the apples of my challenging Autumn weekend and made what I call a taste from heaven: Blueberry Vanilla Applesauce. I have been known to hide bags of this in the freezer and pull them out in secret, hoping my family won’t know it’s available. It takes what was a boring childhood staple and, elevates it to a decadent treat for adults. As I was stirring the pot, the beautiful bluish-purple sauce bubbled, creating a combination of flavors only God could imagine. I then realized that my two hard seasons had made something beautiful.

Below I am sharing this simple recipe. I hope as you make this recipe, it reminds you of some of the hard moments in your life that God has made beautiful. And if, like me, you are still facing hard moments, that it reminds you that God is still working. Lysa Terkeurst wrote this thought in “Forgiving What You Can’t Forget”: “What things look like from an earthly perspective God sees differently.”   I see hard situations, but God sees growth and beauty!

Blueberry Vanilla Apple Sauce

4 lbs. of apples, I use a variety of sweet and tart apples, peeled, cored, and diced (around 12 cups); 2 c. blueberries, fresh or frozen; 1 T. fresh lemon juice; 1/2 c. unsweetened apple cider; 1T. vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste

Combine all ingredients in a large pot. Bring liquid in bottom of pot to a boil over medium high heat. After it comes to a boil, lower to medium heat and cover, cooking for 45-60 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes until apples are soft. If you want a smooth apple sauce blend in batches in a food processor. I prefer mine a little chunky. Freezes well for a year.

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that Christ Jesus to hold of me.” Philippians 3:12

Terry and I recently traveled to Rhode Island to visit Ethan, Rachel, and Joel. Excited, we left mid-afternoon, anticipating that we would arrive at their house in six short hours. The last few trips there have gone well despite the chaotic traffic on I-95 in Connecticut. Although this trip would set a record, it was not in the direction we had anticipated. Ten hours later we arrived at our son’s home. The crazy part was all the slow downs happened before we even entered Connecticut! Despite the length of the trip, the time passed quickly. We alternated between listening to podcasts and reading a book aloud. A delightful chapter distracted us from the thirty-minute snail pace it took us to move two miles.

In early August, I wrote Leg Warmers and Body Shame, detailing my attempt to change lifelong messages I had received and accepted about myself. I declared that I was not going to count calories. I would journal about my feelings and work on dismantling the shame. The next day, I left for a birthday celebration only to return a few days later, testing positive for Covid-19. From this point on, nothing has gone as planned. After my initial symptoms disappeared, I struggled to get back into an exercise routine. My stamina was low, and my pace was slow. I also experienced a Rheumatoid Arthritis flare due to my compromised immune system. In essence, my body seemed to be in a bit of shock, and I needed to pay attention to it’s messages by choosing to accept the days I couldn’t exercise. I listened to my body but was admittedly frustrated, sometimes returning to old habits, using food to comfort me.

Recently, I heard a person remark in an interview that its easy at the end of the journey to share some of the important lessons you have learned. It’s harder to be vulnerable in the middle of a journey and offer perspective. She used the phrase “to capture in amber” referring to the lessons learned while still on the journey. “Capturing in amber” is a concept from Michael Crichton’s best-selling book, “Jurassic Park”. In the book, dinosaur DNA was extracted from bugs that had had feasted on dinosaur blood. The lives of these bugs were cut short when they accidentally got stuck in the sap of a tree. While still alive and struggling to get free, the sap enveloped them completely, eventually fossilizing the bug in amber. According to Crichton’s imagination and some scientific knowledge, the bugs captured in amber unlocked the keys for the future.

 I could take a high look back on the past three years and chronicle how I lost my weight and have overcome a lifelong battle of obesity. But this would not be a fair assessment. It took over forty years to put on those pounds along with the messages I received and habits I created to sustain that weight. I am still in the struggle, just like the bug who gets caught in the tree sap. And I need to pay attention to the lessons I am learning on the journey. I need to capture these moments and name where I still struggle. This authenticity helps me move forward and overcome. If I ignore the struggle and constantly look ahead to the end of the journey, I might miss some of the lessons I need to learn.

This journey has never been just about numbers, but numbers do play a role. My weight has crept up a few pounds in the last few months and my clothes don’t feel quite as comfortable as they did before. I find myself looking into the mirror and asking my husband if I look fat again. But as the words spill out of my mouth, I remind myself to show grace. I need to find the balance between numbers on the scale, the reality of my current physical health, and my old habits of using food as a comfort. I need to admit to myself and to others the struggles I am facing instead of reverting to the habits of hiding my setbacks. I must remind myself that this is just a slight delay on my journey to better health.

 In the past, when I have made long trips and have been in traffic jams or slowdowns, I have been annoyed and frustrated. This frustration didn’t leave when we made our destination. Instead, I always felt like I had to take some time to decompress. Although Terry and I were super excited to be out of the car, I didn’t need to decompress after this trip. I could be fully present as I greeted my son and his wife. The difference was I chose to enjoy the journey with my husband instead of focusing on my destination.

I am applying the lesson I learned on this Rhode Island trip to my journey toward better health. I am choosing not to panic about a few numbers on the scale. I am choosing to be honest with myself, and when I find my self over-indulging, I pause, and make a better decision the next time. I move as much as my body will allow, and rest when my body needs it. And in this struggle, I am learning more about myself, the messages I have accepted, and the truth of God.