"All I want to do is jump in the car, scour the countryside for apples and enjoy the trees." That's what I told Mom this morning as I stood at the window, forehead leaned into the glass, looking out into the gray, misty autumn wetness that enunciates the leaves, makes them glow. For some reason, I felt extremely celebratory. Happier than usual to be alive; but not just alive―alive in Christ. Because every day is worth celebrating in the giddy manner of a 3-year-old since Christ has died and (miracle!) risen. Every moment from Him is a gift, and all of life has the potential to be joyful. Not saying we ignore the bad things, the painful things, the things that happen because of the Fall; but it's living out that paradox of "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing..." and not letting the bad outweigh the good like we always do. Like, c'mon, how could the bad EVER outweigh the good when God is God and Jesus is alive and we are forgiven and free?
The latter is why I was (am) happy. Even though there was that undercurrent of dissonance, like there always is. For example, when I answered the phone this morning, it was one of those creditors. I had to take a message because Dad was getting his INR levels checked, another reminder he's almost died way too many times the past 8 years. I was here at home to take the call because my nannying days/hours got cut back since I'm not the only one in need of money. Also, we learned that Mrs. M was back in the ER with crazy levels of pain, in need of a surgery she wasn't given earlier, I think since the hospitals didn't deem it a priority.
But do earthly disturbances like that somehow make the future glory that awaits us less significant? Does it mean we're fighting a losing battle? Does it mean we have to go sit in a dusty, ashy corner and mope and tear our clothes? (Applicable rabbit trail: I'm thinking clothes in Bible times must have been weaker than ours because people were always tearing their clothes, but I can never get my clothes to tear with my two hands.)
No. We still have every reason to celebrate. Even when there's "nothing" to celebrate.
So I decided to follow through with the apple-adventure urge, but not without first making a couple of pie crusts, some without gluten, some full of it. Act in faith even in the small things, right? Because I couldn't be sure if my trip would result in my getting apples or not, thanks to that April snow we had that killed all the blossoms. The orchards we usually go to in our area are all closed this year, with not an apple to show. And I refused to go to Walmart....but knew I'd end up there anyway if I couldn't find any locally grown.
I hopped in the car, snapped on the headlights, made Owl City the theme album of the day, and wound down the leafy, wet, colorful roads in sixth gear. I only nearly died once when someone in the oncoming lane made a left turn right in front of me when they should have waited. But that's what brakes and horns are for.
In Mansfield, Agway saved the day. It was love at first sight. (Yes, this post has pictures!! I know, they are of the crappy iPhone 3 variety, but hey, they are pictures.) They even had Cortlands, which are quite nice for apple pies, I think (or well, that's what my mom tells me. Honestly apples are apples when you put them in a pie, according to my taste buds).
I filled two bags with them, which came to a delightful ten pounds. A little much for a couple pies, but I'm my father's daughter. When dealing with food, always over-buy or over-bake (whatever the case may be). Left-overs are your friend.
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| Harry against the colorful hills. Sorry if I'm...carcissistic :P |
Then I was back home, and quickly ate lunch as Mom and a couple of the kids hurried out to get to art class. Sanna was still with me, so I washed and peeled the apples and we sliced them together. We mixed them up with a little sugar and lots of spice and everything nice, and poured them into the pie shells. Of course my gluten free pie dough didn't make enough for a top and bottom and the situation got sticky for a moment but we improvised and used all the dough for the bottom and made a streusel topping (with almond flour since we didn't have brown rice flour. Hm. I think it will still taste good. Even if it doesn't, my parents are really nice and will tell me it's the best ever even when it's not :P).
I popped them in the oven, cleaned up the mess, and did some blog-surfing until they were done. This is what came out of the oven, and what I am about to eat:
(No, Isaac and Maryah, the tea pot did not come out of the oven.)
Today was a good adventure.
Today was a good adventure.
6 comments:
The teapot may not have come out of the oven, but the fact is, you're still gonna eat it. :P
I must say, I was surprised at the pictures, so non-you!
So, you probably weren't trying to, (I'll just pretend you were) but the composition of the slopping hills and Harry's slopping body (???) look great in that photo. :-)
That was a great post. :) And I agree with Maryah: there is a nice visual echo in the photo.
I knew you would say something about eating it :P
Visual echo? I like it.
Right, so like, 3 weeks after I read this (phenomenally enjoyable) post of yours, I finally get around to commenting on it. Ah well, better late than never.
Wow, what a perfect adventure day; sounds like it was heavenly. :) A quest to find something, a drive, baking, emergency blinkers, and tea at the end to top it all off. The day itself is reason enough for hope and celebration.
Strangely enough, in the vein of enjoying the everyday moments, such as pressing red buttons that turn on flashing lights, I recall something similar from when my friend Lawrence and I were at an airshow as kiddo’s. A friend of his father’s had a connection, so we got to take a tour of one of the big planes and go inside the cockpit, and while we were up there the pilot asked us if we wanted him to fire the craft’s machine guns. Of course, being young gentlemen obsessed with all manner of loud noises and powerful explosions, we enthusiastically agreed. With a smirk on his face, he flipped a switch and a fast staccato clicking that filled the cabin, which we both interpreted as the guns being dry-fired. (Because obviously, no one would fire live ammo in the middle of an airshow, duh!) “Woah! That’s so cool! Thanks Mr. ______” we both exclaimed, and then he ushered us out of the plane and back onto the ground.
Yeah…except it was a Fedex plane. As soon as we got out, Lawrence’s big sister was like, “You dweebs, do you really thing that a civilian cargo plane has *machine guns*!?! All he did was turn on the flashing wingtip lights. G-g-g-g-gullible!” Boy, did we feel dumb. And since then, seeing hazard lights on any vehicle has always seemed like a bit of hidden humor nestled into an otherwise ordinary day.
Random comment: ….probably people in biblical times were much *stronger* than us. ;)
Hahahaha thanks for the story! I won't look at flashing emergency lights the same ever again.
Okay well, at least for the next few times until memory loss sets in ;)
LOL yeah, SURE they were stronger than us. But I already tried the whole long hair thing and that didn't give me super strength :-/
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