The Bookmark

As an avid reader, I have innumerable bookmarks. Some are fancy, some are simple, some are whatever I happen to have lying around when I want to make a note without dog-earring a page. (Transit cards or receipts are especially handy – and readily available - when travelling!)

My collection of bookmarks is eclectic, as so many of them have been gifts from dear ones. (Always a thoughtful token for a book lover!) They encapsulate not only the aspects of my life that have resonated in someone else’s mind, but also serving as an ongoing souvenir of the relationship.

Bookmarks, we know, serve to pause the story that’s being read, so the reader can then re-engage at the precise spot, to continue the story. There are times when the bookmark may fall out if too loosely placed, or (as is so often my case) a bedtime reading leads to my eyes closing before the book does.

If the bookmark isn’t placed, then the continuation can be confusing: the right spot has to be found, sometimes leading to re-reading quite a bit. With my falling-asleep-while-reading, sometimes my mind has filled in some storylines that aren’t quite accurate (I recall once being quite perplexed that a Tragically Hip concert had taken place in The Lord of the Rings…)

All that aside: the marking of a place with the intention to return to it carries significance beyond our reading habits. We can make notes about physical spaces we wish to return to, aware that they are part of our story: be it a once-in-a-lifetime place like an engagement location, or a weekly visit like our favourite pew.

We can identify emotional spaces that we wish to return to; like the emotions that rise up when we drive past our old high school, or the feeling of hugging a loved one.

And there are spiritual places that we can mark to come home to: the psalm that calms our frazzled nerves, the community that gathers around the common table, the sound of the hymn that awakens our spirit.

So often, as life gets busy, our story goes in a different direction that what we may have wished for. What a blessing to be able to mark a spot – with something meaningful – to allow us to come back when we have the time and energy.

What part of your story is currently bookmarked, waiting for your return?

Potatoes!

I enjoy gardening; I am not ever going to be able to sustain myself on what I am able to grow – but I try to get something other than weeds coming out in the end of the season.

The carrots sometimes are only an inch deep, the tomatoes often still green when the frost is setting in overnight. I have good luck with chard and greens, I usually can get a squash to success.

One thing I am consistent about: I cannot grow potatoes. I have made an attempt with every garden I have had; and I have had zero success. Many types of soils, fertilizers, practices, climate zones, sun exposure, etc.

This spring, my neighbour asked if I was planting potatoes. I told her my predicament, and she offered me a few gnarly wrinkly seed potatoes – they were extra for her, and she said if I didn’t use them she was going to compost them (they looked half-way there already).

So – I tried. I had chosen to leave part of the garden unplanted – so I had space. I tossed them in the dirt, I kept them covered… and foliage appeared! I watched as they got taller, and then flowered, and then kept increasing in size. About every other day, same friendly neighbour asks if I’ve got any potatoes yet….

This weekend, as I was tackling some of the weeds, I noticed a couple of potatoes, just poking through the disturbed dirt. They’re small, and of course there’s only a couple right now – but they grew.

It’s no wonder Jesus used agricultural references for so many of his teachings: they are so relatable, and so easy to understand.

What enjoyable teachings my potatoes have given me:
* It’s never too late to try
* You never know when you’ll succeed
* You never know what’s below the surface
* A different environment produces different outcomes
* The result can be so much nicer than what you start with
…and so many more.

I could reflect more on the joys (and limitations) of the garden, but there’s still some weeding to do, and some errant squash vines choking out the tomatoes… and who knows what potatoes (literal and metaphorical!) might come up today.

The Blessing of a Failed Recipe

Clearly NOT my cake this week.

I came across a recipe this week that looked intriguing – it was a gluten-free cake made with some different ingredients (yogurt, apples, squash) with a write-up that promised it was a never-fail recipe. So – checking that I had all the requisite ingredients in my pantry, I tried it!

It failed.

Not miserably, but the recipe was definitely not a success. The texture was off, the rise was inconsistent, the centre of the cake was gooey while the outside was getting crispy, the flavour didn’t quite seem right, and so on.

And while I try to avoid food waste, this cake didn’t seem salvageable. I knew I would not enjoy it - and so it went right into the compost bin.

What a luxury this whole process was.

I have a level of food security that I could attempt an ‘extra’ food like cake, that wasn’t basic for sustenance. I could even toss out a recipe that didn’t work – without going hungry.

I have a pantry where there are ingredients just waiting – some have been there a year or more – and I could use them without concern about the following week’s nourishment. I have the financial resources to buy in bulk, or when they are on sale, and store them just in case they may be wanted.

I have the resources to have gluten-free flours, which are pricey, just sitting in my pantry. I have in my yard a garden plot, where food can grow – and I have the time and energy to grow it as a hobby, not a need.

So while I am frugal, and I am aware of my aversion to food waste, I am also aware of my privilege to cook and eat as I do. I am blessed to be able to support food distribution and food aid systems locally. I realise I am more aware of food security and food sovereignty issues than many.

So I counted my blessings as I disposed of that failed cake. For what a gift that cake was.

Overloaded!

This week, the early apples started dropping off the trees in my yard. Quite a few came down after a (welcome) overnight rain storm!

These drop apples (which I too often call dropples) are part of a normal thinning process, as the tree sheds excess fruit that it can’t support to maturity. There will still be plenty of apples in my fall harvest!

Alas – not wanting to waste anything, I looked into potential uses for these dropples. I came across the recipe for making pectin – it entails boiling these tart early apples for an hour, straining the mash, and reducing the resultant juice. Easy enough!

The challenge came mid-way through the process – I had had *just* enough room in my pot for the apples… and I had presumed I could get away with it.

However, once they started boiling, it was a different story. The pot was overloaded, and thus overflowing, and my what a mess!

After the boiling process was complete, and the straining underway, I pondered how many times I could have intervened to prevent the overflow – and yet had not done. I could have pulled out a bigger pot when I was chopping them and recognised the dilemma… or when the boiling started and the volume increased… or when the overflow was scorching on the stovetop…

Perhaps I was distracted and hadn’t noticed the amount. Maybe I should have been paying more attention as the water boiled. Maybe my indifference made me consider the spillage inconsequential. Perchance I just resigned myself to cleaning up the mess, and so didn’t care when it just got messier and messier.

Regardless: it was a mess. And I was left to clean it up.

It made me reflect on other aspects of life – how we so often can get overwhelmed by our to-do lists, our intentions, our expectations (from ourselves and others); and we miss out on seeing/recognising/availing ourselves of our ability to adjust to a better circumstance: with our relationships, with our faith, with our choices. And so, we end up with the result that we aimed for, but potentially also with a mess to clean up.

Life can feel overwhelming at times, and if we’re not careful, we’re the mess in the pot – simply wishing for enough space to do what we need to do, without making a mess. And wondering why we didn’t choose, so many times, to change the situation so we would have that space.

Perhaps we could un-load just one small piece this week, to allow ourselves the space to just be.