Author: whtpeacock

In choir rehearsal tonight we sang “nostrils”. I don’t mean we sang in a nasally tone; we actually sang the word “nostrils”. The beautiful music, by Daniel E. Gawthrop, is set to a 19th century Celtic text, “Bless to Me, O God,” from Carmina Gadelica. This collection of hymns, prayers, poetry and rituals from the Scottish Highlands and Islands, is a record of oral tradition handed down through generations; translated and compiled by Alexander Carmichael (1832–1912). All that surrounds me each day, even the many things I smell, can remind me of God’s abundant blessings.

PRAYER AT RISING
(From Catherine Maclean, crofter, Naast, Gairloch)
Bless to me, O God,
Each thing mine eye sees;
Bless to me, O God,
Each sound mine ear hears;
Bless to me, O God,
Each odour that goes to my nostrils
Bless to me, O God,
Each taste that goes to my lips;
Each note that goes to my song,
Each ray that guides my way,
Each thing that I pursue.
Each lure that tempts my will,
The zeal that seeks my living soul.
The Three that seek my heart,
The zeal that seeks my living soul,
The Three that seek my heart.

We ate dinner out last night. “Husband’s choice” for his birthday, so he chose a Vietnamese and Chinese restaurant that we hadn’t visited in awhile. The menu is quite extensive, with choices I hadn’t remembered, such as eel, squid and caramelized catfish. Our selections seemed tame, but they were delicious!

I look forward to the end of an Asian meal when the fortune cookies arrive. Even though I’m usually full, I find room for the crunchy almond cookie. The message in mine was a lovely ending to the day: A cheerful heart makes its own song. It reminds me that I can choose the song I sing as I live my life. I can make the choice each day to have a cheerful heart and conduct my life in this way. As I wake up each day, I pray that God will guide my heart, composing many songs of joy.

Today, a member of our congregation was adding photos to a display case in celebration of our church’s 75th anniversary. One of the photos is of our daughter’s baptism 24 years ago. Today is my husband’s birthday. The gentleman putting up the baptismal photo didn’t realize this, but today is also our daughter’s baptismal birthday. How cool is that??

Child of blessing, child of promise, baptized with the Spirit’s sign, with this water God has sealed you unto love and grace divine.

Child of love, our love’s expression, love’s creation, loved indeed! Fresh from God, refresh our spirits; into joy and laughter lead.

Child of joy, our dearest treasure, God’s you are, from God you came. Back to God we humbly give you: live as one who bears Christ’s name.

Child of God, your loving Parent, learn to listen for God’s call. Grow to laugh and sing and worship; trust and love God more than all. ~ Ronald S. Cole-Turner

Our congregation has come to recognize the text and tune for “Let Us Talents and Tongues Employ,” sung in worship yesterday. Its familiarity allows us the freedom to dance a bit, along with rhythmic percussion, as it’s sung. Glancing through our hymnal, I was drawn to the text of another hymn, this one not as familiar to me. “Sheaves of Wheat,” by Spanish author/composer Cesáreo Gabaráin (translated by Mary Louise Bringle), includes language which resonates with me; my passion for creating bread and our shared stories and experiences connecting us all.

Sheaves of wheat turned by sunlight into gold, grapes in clusters, like rubies on the vine, feed our hearts as the precious blood and body of our Lord: gifts of heaven from earthly bread and wine.

Here we gather to share a common meal. We are harvest by God the Sower sown, brought together to share the joys and sorrows that we feel, all refined by life’s common grinding stone.

As each grain blends to form a single loaf, or as notes weave to shape a single song, or as droplets unite within the ocean’s depth and foam, to each other as Christians we belong.

At the table of God we join to eat, and as sisters and brothers break the bread. Fed by faith, hope, and love, we sing our joy to all we meet, as the body of Christ, our living head.

Calypso is the name of an orchid. It is also a style of Afro-Caribbean music which originated in Trinidad; communication through song (like what these orchids look to be demonstrating). This morning we closed our World Communion worship with a “communion calypso,” as described by Fred Kaan, author of “Let Us Talents and Tongues Employ.” His text is sung to the tune LINSTEAD, a Jamaican folk melody. Syncopated rhythm creates a forward drive to the music as this morning we sang and “danced” with maracas, African shaker and claves. I can’t even read the text without speaking the words in rhythm! What a wonderful song to send us out in celebration of Christian unity and as a reminder to show love for God and neighbor in the world.

Let us talents and tongues employ, reaching out with a shout of joy: bread is broken; the wine is poured; Christ is spoken and seen and heard. Jesus lives again; earth can breathe again; pass the Word around: loaves abound!

Christ is able to make us one; at the table he sets the tone, teaching people to live to bless, love in word and in deed express. Jesus lives again; earth can breathe again; pass the Word around: loaves abound!

Jesus calls us in, sends us out bearing fruit in a world of doubt, gives us love to tell, bread to share: God (Immanuel) everywhere! Jesus lives again; earth can breathe again; pass the Word around: loaves abound!

I love occasions to celebrate, and I think the world could use more joy. I am so excited to celebrate our Christian unity with brothers and sisters from East and West, North and South, this World Communion Sunday. Earlier today as we set up the space where bread will be served tomorrow, the artifacts on display really struck me as quite special. Bread speaks a regional language, and the fabric of these places also tells a story. What a powerful thing when displayed together.

Members from Taiwan are sharing their story through Mantou steamed buns and music. Families from Serbia and Greece are displaying pieces of their heritage, and archaeologists in our congregation are adding to the story with Syrian plaster casts of ancient monastery ruins from AD 900-1000. Another family, having recently returned to America from living many years in Singapore, are sharing beautiful tapestries and ancient relics from their life there. And the stories continue throughout our festival. Over forty different breads; many more stories. I hope those who visit and sample will speak with the faces behind the tables, adding their own stories as we celebrate our differences, but mostly our similarities.

Halloumi is a salty cheese, also called grilling cheese, and is traditionally prepared from sheep’s milk in Cyprus. It’s not meant to be eaten plain but is delicious warmed or grilled. Since I had never tried this cheese before, I tasted some before adding it to the dough of this classic Greek bread. Alone it has somewhat of a rubbery texture and is quite salty, but once baked in the bread its saltiness is tamed and its texture transformed, becoming creamy and savory. Freshly dried mint adds beautiful green flecks throughout the interior of the loaf and a touch of brightness to the flavor. Mint is an herb I associate more with tea or dessert than with bread, but its subtle flavor in the loaf is tantalizing. I love when my senses are awakened to the unexpected pleasures of taste.

I got home from choir practice tonight (fell asleep again in the midst of writing, so it’s actually the next day) to a husband asking, “Where is that smellllll coming from?” I immediately knew what it was. So sorry! Trial three of fermenting teff flour failed. This time they fermented too long, the house has been too hot for their liking, and with no AC, I haven’t wanted to do any baking this week. So at Sunday’s celebration, only one injera flatbread will be sampled from the good batch of dough. It took quite awhile to get the awful smell out of the house. I put lemon juice in the bowl and slices down the drain, then baked cookies to fill the house with their sweet fragrance. Washing down everything made me think of the Bath Buns I made last week….

With the town and bun named “Bath” (I think I could live in a place called “Town and Bun”!) I had to look up their history. The English city of Bath is west of London on the river Avon. According to expert baker Bernard Clayton, “Bath has the only mineral springs in Great Britain and the Roman colonists were inspired to build a spa there, which is how it got its name.” This sweet savory bun is filled with currants, flavored with mace (the ground outer coating of the nutmeg) and topped with three layers of glaze: egg yolk, lemon juice mixed with sugar, and milk. These layers create a beautiful sheen on the outside of the bun; almost as if they’re squeaky clean. Or a mirror-like reflection of the goodness they hold inside.

I can usually gauge the temperature of my office by how soft the chocolate stash is in my desk drawer. Lately the church AC has been working just fine and my chocolate is stable, but our AC at home recently broke…not a good time for this to happen with temperatures in the 90s the week of bread baking. Thankfully most of the bread for Sunday’s celebration is already baked. My husband is grilling his beer cheese bread now while we sit outside catching a hot breeze. He was impressed by how fast the butter got soft in the heat of the kitchen before warming it on the stovetop to melt. This morning I picked some fresh mint for a Greek bread I hope to make, and by the time I got home the mint leaves had already dried to a crisp. Another positive: my cacao plant seems to be thriving in this tropical-like weather after its adoption a few weeks ago. Life is not always comfortable, but I try to find opportunities to move past the unpleasantness, realizing that my discomfort in no way compares to what many others endure. Hot? Yes, but joyful.

My favorite cookie story…Whenever I make cookies, I double or triple the batch and freeze some dough in case I need cookies in a hurry for that unexpected something. Like when your child says, “Mom, I forgot to tell you it’s my turn to bring snack for_______tomorrow”. Yes, I could purchase a snack, but baking from scratch just brings me joy. So it’s really my own fault. Now on to the story. One of our children, while still living at home, needed cookies for something (I’m pretty sure rowing was involved). Confidently pulling out the homemade cookie dough from the basement freezer and opening the container, something didn’t look quite right. I was sure there had been more dough in the carton. I popped the mound out and discovered teeth marks on the underside of the dough. Our sleuth had sniffed out the frozen, hidden dough, was snacking on it, and tried to cover up the evidence! It was difficult to be angry through my laughter.

Cookies have always warmed my heart. Yesterday, a friend shared the news that October 1st is National Homemade Cookies Day. I had planned to workout, but….baking won. I tried a new cookie recipe that another friend recently shared from a bakery in Paris. Most of the flour is rye, and another unexpected ingredient is poppy seeds. I substituted dried cherries for the cranberries since I had cherries on hand, and the best ingredient of all? Bittersweet chocolate.

I just read that the average person consumes almost 19,000 cookies in a lifetime. That’s a lot of love! I wonder how many pounds of cookie dough that translates to? Whenever I bake, these days at a more leisurely pace, I remember those precious times of frantic baking. Those were hours I can never replace, filled with immeasurable love.