April book winner: Lenae, who left a comment at blog.
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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The date was my husband’s birthday, a few years ago when our son was 13 and our daughter was 10. Make that several decades ago. David and I readied to go out for an early dinner celebration, and we gave general instructions to the children before we left them home without a babysitter for a few hours.
The specific instructions came from their dad. Our family usually celebrates birthdays with a preferred pie instead of a cake. I’d baked David’s favorite—southern pecan. David told the kids, “You can each have one piece, but I don’t want to come home and find all my pie gone.”
When we returned home about three hours later, the house was dark, the lights out, apparently the kiddos were in bed early. That was out of the ordinary, but we felt so pleased. What obedient children.
When we opened the back door, we smelled the aroma of fresh baking, and when we flipped on the kitchen light, there sat a brand new pie on the table with a note propped against it. The kitchen was spotless.
The note said, “We’re sorry. We let the cat in. We know we’re not supposed to, and the cat ate your pie. You didn’t have any more pecans, so we made you a walnut pie. Love, Russell and Sheryle.”
So, that’s why the kitchen was immaculate and they were tucked into their beds early. We knew something was up. They had gone to bed early hoping the new pie and the note might soften our hearts. They did.
The next morning, we discussed how their disobedience, letting the cat in, had caused them misery. However, we did appreciate their attempt to make things right — pie dough from scratch and the innovative walnut substitution.
My granddaughter Jolie, who is four, loves to hear stories about her mother Sheryle. Recently, I told Jolie the “cat ate the pie” story. Afterwards, I asked Jolie, “Do you think Russell and Sheryle got into trouble?”
She bobbed her chin up and down saying, “Yes,” but I shook my head no. I told her that David, now known to Jolie as Pop, forgave Russell and Sheryle for letting the cat in and thanked them for the fresh pie. I then got to give details about forgiveness to a four year old. Try it some time. It’s fun. I explained that when someone says they are sorry that we are to accept their apology and forget the harm they did to us.
For each offence committed, there is not always an apology, but we can pattern God’s mercy and forgive anyway. The Old Testament prophet Micah said about God, “You do not stay angry forever, but delight to show mercy” (7:18).
Other familiar words are a good starting place for all offenders and would-be forgivers, too, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
To receive mercy, offer mercy. And if you need to get your foot in the door to seek forgiveness, it might not hurt to have a pie in your hands.
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Friday, May 01, 2009
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Squash Mystery-December 14
On a forgiveness scale, with minor infractions at the bottom and world wars at the major end, this story about squash casseroles ranks . . . well, you decide.
Several times a year Carolyn, a friend, is in charge of the mid-week meals that her church hosts for their members. Women who participate prepare the menus and cook the food for one month of Wednesdays. I’ve replicated some of Carolyn’s recipes and she ranks up there with Emeril. She knows the exact spice to make a chicken pot pie tasty, the little flare to make it eye-appealing.
Have you cooked for a crowd? It’s not a small task. Much vegetable scrubbing, cutting, grinding, measuring, pan washing, frying and love combine to turn out culinary masterpieces.
Ordinary recipes for small families are increased to feed 150-200. The recipes are tested because good cooks know when multiplying servings, quality can be lost. Seasoning strengths vary between a 16 ounce can of legumes and a mountain of beans.
The coordinator also considers the diners: two-year-old toddlers to gramps on walkers. Middle un-spicy ground is preferred for all palettes. Carolyn is also a do-ahead person. She knows emergencies can come up Wednesdays.
Once when her turn was near, she bought pounds of yellow squash and zucchini. After cleaning, chopping, cooking, mashing, adding butter, eggs and all the other good stuff, she ladled them into seven large aluminum pans wrapped them in foil. This took a big chunk of time and work.
Satisfied and relieved to have part of the meal ready, Carolyn delivered them to the church kitchen freezer. Now, church kitchens belong to all members, and a few days later, another good hearted woman decided to scrub down the kitchen. Really freshen it good—Spic and Span the floors, toss leftovers out of refrigerators and freezers.
When Mrs. Clean saw the overcrowded freezer and lifted the foil on a few items dried as the Sinai desert, she began tossing food into the mammoth trash can.
Dum-de-dum, dum, dum. Later in the week, Carolyn arrived to prepare the rest of the Wednesday night meal and found the kitchen sparkling clean—the fridge remarkably empty. She went into panic mode. She phoned around.
The phone calls set off a search worthy of a mystery dinner theatre. In her heart she felt they were gone, but she hoped another committee cook was baking them at home.
The missing zucchini was the buzz for several weeks. Then at Sunday worship, a couple of weeks later, a teary eyed woman approached Carolyn. Weeping, she confessed to being the squash bandit.
Carolyn said, “I could tell she felt terrible.” And Carolyn knew it had been difficult for Mrs. Clean to come forward. But two women who follow Jesus did the right thing. One confessed. One forgave.
In this season of Advent, of waiting and remembering the One who came to save his people from their sins, search around in your heart for grievances. If you find one . . . or two, speak confessions. Speak forgiveness.
Renewed, you can earnestly pray “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive others.”
Several times a year Carolyn, a friend, is in charge of the mid-week meals that her church hosts for their members. Women who participate prepare the menus and cook the food for one month of Wednesdays. I’ve replicated some of Carolyn’s recipes and she ranks up there with Emeril. She knows the exact spice to make a chicken pot pie tasty, the little flare to make it eye-appealing.
Have you cooked for a crowd? It’s not a small task. Much vegetable scrubbing, cutting, grinding, measuring, pan washing, frying and love combine to turn out culinary masterpieces.
Ordinary recipes for small families are increased to feed 150-200. The recipes are tested because good cooks know when multiplying servings, quality can be lost. Seasoning strengths vary between a 16 ounce can of legumes and a mountain of beans.
The coordinator also considers the diners: two-year-old toddlers to gramps on walkers. Middle un-spicy ground is preferred for all palettes. Carolyn is also a do-ahead person. She knows emergencies can come up Wednesdays.
Once when her turn was near, she bought pounds of yellow squash and zucchini. After cleaning, chopping, cooking, mashing, adding butter, eggs and all the other good stuff, she ladled them into seven large aluminum pans wrapped them in foil. This took a big chunk of time and work.
Satisfied and relieved to have part of the meal ready, Carolyn delivered them to the church kitchen freezer. Now, church kitchens belong to all members, and a few days later, another good hearted woman decided to scrub down the kitchen. Really freshen it good—Spic and Span the floors, toss leftovers out of refrigerators and freezers.
When Mrs. Clean saw the overcrowded freezer and lifted the foil on a few items dried as the Sinai desert, she began tossing food into the mammoth trash can.
Dum-de-dum, dum, dum. Later in the week, Carolyn arrived to prepare the rest of the Wednesday night meal and found the kitchen sparkling clean—the fridge remarkably empty. She went into panic mode. She phoned around.
The phone calls set off a search worthy of a mystery dinner theatre. In her heart she felt they were gone, but she hoped another committee cook was baking them at home.
The missing zucchini was the buzz for several weeks. Then at Sunday worship, a couple of weeks later, a teary eyed woman approached Carolyn. Weeping, she confessed to being the squash bandit.
Carolyn said, “I could tell she felt terrible.” And Carolyn knew it had been difficult for Mrs. Clean to come forward. But two women who follow Jesus did the right thing. One confessed. One forgave.
In this season of Advent, of waiting and remembering the One who came to save his people from their sins, search around in your heart for grievances. If you find one . . . or two, speak confessions. Speak forgiveness.
Renewed, you can earnestly pray “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive others.”
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