why carnivorous bipeds need to cook their food too

Let it be known that a small miracle has taken place here in the Wilmington heat! I've found myself wanting to cook lately, wanting to learn how to make certain things in the kitchen.

Alicia says: "Maybe it's God."
Sarawr responds: "Must be. I think it'd take an act of God. I want to make an egg."

The truth is it must be the heat. My brains are addled (see what I did there?). But let me explain. I did not grow up around people who cooked often, maybe once every two weeks if memory serves. My baby sitter cooked a lot as far as I can remember but we weren't allowed in the kitchen and so not only did I never learn but I never really developed any interest in it. Particularly since I was fed from a box most of my life and never did get out of the habit--but this is between us: there are certain American stereotypes I will gladly embrace (wink) and others I want nothing at all to do with, this being one of them.

Now, it was never really a problem. I always figured I could get away with it as long as I was only feeding myself, and except for when I was in Colombia and was helping some to feed my roommate's brothers and sister, it's been easy enough. But then there came the problem that one day I might have a family and they'll want to be fed. And I'll want to feed them and make them fat and happy. It wasn't ever a problem before because a) this is my second favorite video on youtube, b) marriage always did seem such a long way off. But now, while I am quite content about being single, learning to cook has been nudging at me. For the record, I'm not doing this to be more marriagable. That would be silly. But I figure being able to take care of people and keep them alive is a skill I ought to have.

That said, it's not actually what convinced me. I'm not sure what convinced me, those are just the head arguments I have. Why suddenly I want to go make eggs (which I can do, by the way, and they're not that bad) I have no idea. I'll tell you this: I love baking. It's the math of it. I like to pretend I'm in Potions class at Hogwarts. But cooking, less like math and more like art? I'm really not all that creative outside of maybe writing and being an INTP I can legitimize the penchant for systems and rules.

Aside: Alicia is now reading from the Julia Childs book (Mastering the Art of French Cooking) about how when she first got married she didn't know anything about cooking and Scott said, "Why did he marry her?" You see this? Terrible!

But that is where we are now. We've got this cook book out that explains what flour does and why you use it and maybe if I understood it all a little better instead of people just putting ingredients in and I have no idea what they do, well then maybe I'd like it a little better. But just last week I helped to cook a fish and it was delicious. And next week I'll be helping with shrimp scampi, some sort of strange cheese biscuits and blackberry pie for our staff worker and his wife. I'm excited!

So all of that is to say I don't know where the desire to cook came from since I've been half trying to convince myself for about a year and even more how I've come to enjoy doing it in the last few weeks. But I'm jumping on it while it's there. So if you have any have any good, easy starter recipes, send them this way! And I'll even blog about it. I'll call it The Epic Adventures of Sarawr the Dinosaur: Why Carnivorous Bipeds Need to Cook Their Food Too. Stay tuned!

aslan on the move

In between all my meetings and work and keeping comfortably busy, these last few weeks have been devoted to rest and "renewal of the mind" and one way that has looked has been reading. And oh, I have missed it. First, a confession: although I love every book I've ever read by C. S. Lewis, I haven't actually technically read any of the Chronicles of Narnia. They were read to me in the fifth grade and even now, reading through them, I haven't remembered much at all. But they've been incredible. I've got a lovely mismatched collection of the series--I missing three or four of them (have been borrowing the others) but they're all different printings and even different publishers. Going on a tangent for a second, it has been breaking my heart in some ways to get rid of so many books before I leave (but also wonderful, because what better gift to give away than a book!), and I don't know if I'll be able to bring all the ones I want with me. We'll see.

I'm in the middle of Prince Caspian now and so far I think it's probably my least favorite. I think the best has been The Horse and His Boy. I finished it at work the other day and toward the end there is this amazing part where the main character, Shasta, is riding his horse along in the dark and it's cold and foggy and he's feeling very alone and suddenly something much bigger than him is walking alongside him. It tells Shasta to tell him his sorrows. And he does, he tells him about everything, about his whole life and everything leading up to that moment. And then it says:

"'I was the lion.' And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. 'I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.'"

I was the lion you do not remember. This has been a near constant reminder these last months, this whole summer. Life is hard sometimes and it always has been and I remember even back in April having a conversation with someone about how I knew in my head God had been with me and I'd say it but I had very distinct memories of wondering if he was really there and feeling like he wasn't at all, not anywhere at all. And as always there is the process of moving the things I understand in my head to the part of my heart that causes me to live like it's true instead just knowing it's true. And that is a big gap. And the truth is that life is difficult, I'm certain that every one of us has moments we thought of just then. But the bigger truth is that, while maybe we don't remember--I didn't--the lion was with us.

There are some other thoughts that have been floating around in my head regarding all of this recently, and a friend and I had a conversation about some of it a few days ago. We talked about the pressure to be shiny-happy Christians all the time, to jump right to 'God is good' and skip over 'this hurts' or 'I don't understand and I definitely don't like it' or just 'why?' I don't want to undervalue learning to trust God in the places we don't understand. But my friend said something about how it almost cheapens the whole thing to not even recognize how hard it was, to jump right to God being the answer no matter what without the process of getting to that answer. I'm not quite sure how to articulate any of this, and it's not coming out as well as I'd like to (also, friend: I'm trying to remember the gist of the conversation so if this isn't quite it, let me know).

Where I'm coming to, however, is that I think maybe God wants us to meet him in these hard places, to wrestle with him, even. I think of David: "How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? ...Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; ...But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me." (from Psalm 13) There are lots of other examples, and this isn't just for when things are hard but when they are good as well.

And then we look back (because we have looked--we haven't just closed our eyes) we see the places the lion was, here portrayed as the comforter and protector and also the one who gives us strength, even if it was scary. Aslan is on the move, these days. And now it's just trying to watch for him.

"and when i run i feel his pleasure"

I watched Chariots of Fire tonight and there was one quote in the movie where one of the main characters, Eric, this incredibly fast sprinter who was born to a missionary family and planned to return to China, is explaining to his sister that he will be going back but he has to run first, and he says:

"I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure."

I love this. I've been thinking a lot lately about about how God delights in us. I was talking to Alicia a few days ago and we had been listening to some music by Jon Foreman and this song came on that quotes a good deal of Psalm 51, the one David wrote after everything with Bathsheba.

Now, I'll tell you. I love reading about David and I especially appreciate his Psalms because of how passionate they are, and I was telling Alicia that it made me quite happy he's got some pretty emo ones in there because that's real and it's encouraging to think that he could pour out his whole heart to God, whatever it looked like at that particular moment. And apparently God liked them since they made their way into the Bible.

And so as we were talking about it, I thought that God must really love the things we say to him and sing to him and write to him. Or paint or build, or when we run for him. I don't know whether it's true or not but I imagine he's got it all collected in heaven, that he remembers every bit of it. That when we meet him he might say, remember when you wrote this to me? I remember, and I was with you. I think he delights in them, that he really does, and that maybe everything you've ever painted is displayed in heaven because he's proud of it, even. Or that the things you've written he's got bound together something like a book of Psalms as a sort of monument to the places you met him and worshiped.

What if he wants us to run? Or to write or to sing? And I think it's exactly that quote: he made us for a purpose and he's got all kinds of plans for us. But he also made us talented, made us to love music or words or whatever it is that we're passionate about. He made you good at music, so play it with all your heart and ''feel his pleasure'' in that.

I feel like I'm missing this, that all the words are talking around it but not quite saying it, but we are his splendor. We were made to glorify him and I wonder if maybe glorifying him is more than saying who he is and pointing to him, but also doing the things he made us to do. Doing them fully and passionately and, if he made you a dancer, dancing beautifully, reflecting the image of a beautiful creator God. And I think he looks at us and is proud, proud like a father spilling over with it all, with how much he loves us.

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." Ephesians 2:10