My dear friend, Susan, and I recently had a conversation about the shortbread we used to make at home. It was a popular recipe of our youth and I need to remember to ask her to either post a picture or send me a text (hint, hint)... as I have no idea where mine is. She mentioned that the recipe was handwritten and how she smiles and remembers time at our kitchen table every time she pulls it out.
That made me smile, too, as I know my sister April was with us. April loved to be in the kitchen. Her hits were amazing. Her fails were epic. Most of all, April loved the fellowship at the kitchen table. How many recipes for Grandma Guttendorf's Pride of Iowa, shortbread, turtle brownies and other favorites did we hand write on recipe cards before the internet and home computers? Countless. (Oh Susan, thank you for sharing that memory.)I appreciate and use the ease of computer sharing and Pinterest recipe files. Now that April and my grandmother's are gone, those handwritten recipe cards are so much more than a recipe. They are a memory and evidence of the love shared at the table. The uniqueness of handwriting and feeling "touched by their hand" once again. Precious and priceless.
As I have been reading the New Testament in chronological order this year, we are still in the gospels. I think I could spend a year in the gospels alone, as they packed with the warmth of a Savior who came to be "God with Us". One of us... but more. Son of God and man. Handwritten by some of the ones who knew him best. Really knew him.
Matthew, Mark, Luke & John walked with Jesus, talked with him and knew what fruit or vegetable he would choose first from the bowls at Lazarath, Martha & Mary's home when sitting at their table. They knew him.
Their gospels are like a precious, handwritten recipes of a loved one no longer physically with us. Their books are Holy Spirit inspired. How they must have spoken his name out loud as they penned their memories of times with him. We say "Jesus", but they would have called him "Yeshua". I have fallen in love with Jesus' name in Hebrew. It is warm and comforting rolling off the tongue. Did they smile and think, "Oh, Yeshua." as they wrote of miracles, tense moments and the excitement of the resurrection? We don't know, but we can imagine it.
The gospels are, indeed, like that old recipe box I have come to treasure for the memories and the handwritten notes on "how to get it right" even more than the actual recipes. The gospels are full of the wisdom, wonder and ways of Yeshua. I am grateful we can share the Gospel through modern technology... but I savor time in my own well loved, tattered, note-filled and art journaled Bibles.
Why do I write in my Bible? My friend, Sherry, pulled out a comment I once wrote to a new Bible journaler... then re-shared it with me. Thank you Sherry. This is why I write and draw in my Bibles:
Our faith legacy is written in the margins of God's own word for the next generation to know us and to know Him.
How will we know him if we do not embrace his truth and his story? How will we know his recipes for living?
"For God saved us and called us to live a holy life. He did this, not because we deserved it, but because that was his plan from before the beginning of time—to show us his grace through Christ Jesus." -2 Timothy 1:9
Today, I am grateful for my old fashioned recipe box.
No comments:
Post a Comment