love & recipes

“Becoming a Christian might look more like falling in love than baking cookies.” Donald Miller

I recently wrote about baking banana bread. I mentioned in my writing that it took me weeks just to find all the required ingredients. I even followed a “Good House-Keeping” recipe to the tee, but my first attempt was a flop.
What I failed to mention in my first entry was how difficult it was to find white flour. In fact, I traveled to Tamale in search of white flour and after scouring four or more speciality grocery markets, I found a small bag that was imported from India. I was euphoric...ideas of breads and cookies were running through my mental recipe Rolodex. At last, I can bake! I purchased the over priced, imported flour from India and headed back to Yendi. That night I made homemade macaroni and cheese and used my new flour in the cheese sauce. I carefully closed the flour bag and sealed its entire contents inside a Ziploc bag taking caution to push out any air that could spoil my precious flour. The next day, when I opened the flour to begin my baking extravaganza the bag was riddled with small black bugs. “Okay, I can handle this. God, you are teaching me something here...what is it?”
I was discouraged for a few minutes, but I knew that I should have put the flour in the refrigerator immediately after opening and that next time I would do better.
Fast forward one week, I am on my way to Tamale again. My mission is to go back to the same speciality market and purchase more white flour, and this time I will take better caution to avoid any infestation. My first stop is the “Multi-Market” and I walk directly to the aisle where I remember the flour was kept. I purchase the flour along with several other needed items and my enthusiasm begins to builds. It is Saturday, and my plan is to spend Sunday afternoon baking banana bread. As soon as I return to Yendi I put away all my purchases and carefully place the flour in the refrigerator.
Sunday afternoon, I take the flour out of the refrigerator and open it...once again it is riddled with small black bugs.
“Okay God... I cannot handle this, you know how excited I was to make this bread!”
In my state of disillusion, I stomp over to the neighboring mission house and share my story with the resident caretaker. As I am grumbling to him, I can see on his face that he is not quite understanding my entire story. I ask him,
“Is there any place in Yendi I can purchase flour?”
His response was, “Sure, do you want artificial flowers or living flowers?
At this point I begin to laugh even through my disdain, “No. Walker, I need flour used to bake bread... You know, white flour?” After a few minutes of explaining white flour to him, he nonchalantly answered,
“Oh yeah, there is a bread manufacturing business here and you can get flour anytime you want.”
Later when I was trying to process the “white flour” incident (as I like to call it), I came across some insight while reading a book. The author of the book said that becoming a Christian might look more like falling in love than baking cookies. After I read those words, I knew that my “white flour” incident had a greater significance than I originally suspected.

Here I am diligently searching for something, finding that “something” in the wrong place, realizing that “something” is inadequate, and then returning again for more of that “something” (How true is that pattern outside of my baking life?).

God, I don’t want to follow a recipe to know you, I want to fall in love! I want my relationship with You to be exuberant, euphoric, and complicated. I want to work at IT, cry over IT, and at the end of the day find myself utterly satisfied with You!

My prayer as you read these words is that you desire to fall in love with God not because His Love fits into a three-point sermon, fall in love with God because His Grace is unending. His Power is magnificent. His Mystery is alluring. His Affection for us never-ceases. He Is Truly Lovable.
...entry written 27th September, 2009

dreams & life

As an child I remember growing up with perpetual praise and emotional encouragement. I was loved, supported, and even adored. In fact, I remember feeling so strong in this support that I truly believed I could be anyone or do anything.
As a teenager I felt that if I searched for a dream, a true passion that my life would be electrifying.
As an early college student I continued this search for a dream...
Throughout college I searched further...
Then when I when I began my first teaching job I thought, “This is it! This must be my dream.”
About a month ago I was listening to a preacher (via podcast) out of a church in Los Angeles and he said something that radically shifted my whole “dream search” idea. The pastor said,

“Live a dream that is worth your life...”

I listened to his words over and over and over again, “Live a dream that is worth your life.”
I realized what this pastor was not saying was, "search your life for your dreams, or live your life for your dreams", but in fact what he insightfully declared with just eight words was that our lives are worth nothing less than a dream, and our Creator wants our lives to represent something of

Mighty Greatness...

It is a good thing I was in Africa when I heard this sermon because if not, I would have been on the first plane to Africa.
My dreams are irrelevant if I can’t devote my entire soul, my entire being, my entire existence, even my entire life to fulfilling them. I want to waste my life on a dream that is worthy of my life. I want to teach, and please, and love others...but most importantly, I want to do this because if I don’t, what is my life worth?
God revealed to me that day, that it is not what I am searching for that is my dream, it is what I am living right now.
Okay, I understand this is easy for me to say because I am in Africa helping others and feeling good about my “works”, but my prayer is that when I leave Ghana God’s revelation will accompany me and remind me that every dream I have should be worth of my entire life...
Enjoy the moments God is giving you, and live a dream that is worthy of wasting your life on!...entry written 26th September, 2009

Peanut Butter Cookies for the Neighborhood

I had an urge to bake peanut butter cookies... Then I walked outside my front door and shared them with the neighbors. Everyone looked at me with trepidation, but after one taste they asked for another!

Interesting Fact -The Ghanians call peanuts "groundnuts" and peanut butter "groundnut paste".

Banana Bread

After weeks of searching I collected all the ingredients to bake banana bread. This was not a specific craving of mine, perhaps it stemmed from all the women I see walking around Yendi carrying baskets of banana on their heads.
I have made banana bread many times in the states, and in fact, I made banana bread all summer while working at the Fly Creek General Store, in New York... I guess what I am hinting at, is that I am not an amateur banana bread baker.
SoIi searched for weeks for all in ingredients. White flour, white sugar, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda (this was the most difficult ingredient to find), I even had to travel one hour from yendi to purchase bread pans.
One sunday evening I was feeling ambitious so I decided I would make a batch. I followed a recipe and mixed all the required ingredients together. As I was pouring the batter into bread pans, I realized that the stove was not turned on to preheat. The oven in my house is a compact gas/electric range with a gas burning oven. When I opened the oven door I realized there was no pilot light, and I had to manually light the burners. I asked two women who work at the mission center next door to my house to help me light the oven. They came over and showed me how to turn on the gas cylinder and light the top over burner. I was very excited to bake my bread so I put two bread pans in the oven and set the timer. After about thirty minutes, I went to the kitchen to check the progress of my creation. The top of the bread seemed to to be browning nicely, but it was not rising exactly as I remember it doing from previous experiences. I accounted the lack of rising to inadequate measuring spoons and “guesstimation” on the baking soda and baking powder. My initial thought was to add more baking soda in the next batch. After two hours, the batter had not improved and I was losing hope... I took the pans out of the oven and new that all my efforts were lost (at least on this batch of bread). After the oven cooled down I moved some of the racks around and noticed a compartment at the bottom of the oven. When I pulled on the top of the compartment, I lifted up a cover to reveal another gas burner. It turns out I was trying to cook banana bread on broil! I was dumbfounded, why had I not thought of this before? Of course, the top burner in the oven is always designated for broiling, what was I thinking cooking banana bread on broil? Needless to say, once I figured out the oven situation, I baked another batch and now my Ghanian friends are begging me to bake more “American bread”, I’ll just light the correct burner before baking it!
...entry written on 17 September 2009

Malaria

...01 September 2009
I have been baptized into Ghanaian life.... this week I was diagnosed with malaria and faced two miserable days in bed... by the second day of treatment my condition had not improved and my doctor (who, believe it or not, makes house calls) brought me intravenous fluids to rehydrate my body. After four hours on an i.v. drip, and many prayer warriors back in the states (thank you all), my prognosis turned around. I was able to take my oral medication and my fever broke.

The pain of Malaria is unlike any flu or western illness I have ever experienced... maybe due to the fact that I have never had a serious illness or perhaps the unknown was part of the pain too. Living outside direct contact of my family and any modern medical facilities can make even the smallest illness seem that much more dismal.... As i was lying in my bed i watched carefully as the doctor inserted the needle for my i.v. drip. My hand looked so small and white against his. The image paralyzed me. What I should have been thinking was...
“I am receiving a needle from a doctor in Africa.... what am I doing??” This thought would be going through any “good american girl’s” head... right?? But in fact, what I was actually thinking was,
“Thank You God, I am receiving a needle from a doctor in Africa.”
You see, At this point in time i had gone two days without eating so much as a few crackers... I could not keep any food in my stomach and therefore could not take any oral medication.
Because I was in such agony for two days I was at a place of utter desperation... and sometimes a place of utter desperation is the best place be.
Today as I am typing this message I will finish my third day of treatment, and I am feeling much better.
I felt obligated to journal about my malaria experience because it seemed interesting and a rare memory I should document, but as I began to type this entry another thought entered my mind...
Desperation... Most of us in the western world see desperation in a negative context... but after today, I will pray for more moments of desperation...
You see, it takes a moment of utter desperation for God to grant us His grace. If I was not in such a desperate moment perhaps fear would have stopped me from receive the treatment I needed... Fear is paralyzing but desperation forced me to trust... and in my moment of desperation the other night, I was not afraid.

I pray for your moment of utter desperation, may God’s grace grant you courage.
...entry written on 1 September 2009

Sights & Sounds

Every morning I wake up to a rooster crowing in my front yard and the Islamic call to prayer resounding through the speakers of the closest mosque. And for one split moment I have a brief lapse of awareness... "Where am I? What time is it? Someone tell that rooster to go back to sleep." Then suddenly, my memory returns and my questions are answered, "I am in Yendi...It is too early to look at the clock...someone please eat that rooster for dinner!" After a cold shower and instant coffee I am ready for my day.
Today is market day and I need to purchase some baskets for the school library. I ride my bicycle into town (approximately one mile) and park it with a friend at the IRS building (yes, they even have an Internal Revenue Service in Ghana). With small bills in hand (mysteriously, no one ever has change for any bills higher than a 5.00) I venture into the market and begin my hunt. I have to manuver carefully and watch for oncoming motorbike, huge trucks hauling goods, bicycles carrying baskets of live chickcns, and herds of goats. People are everywhere. I smell a woman frying yams and the distinct odor of diesel fuel all in the same breath. While stepping around each small stand displaying items for purchase, I see what I have come looking for; baskets. Yendi is a small farming community and market day only happens once a week, I look forward to this day every week, and instead of traveling the one hour to Tamale (the closest city) in search of baskets I have decided to wait for market day to find my items. I negotiate with the lady selling the baskets and she puts my purchase in a black plastic bag. While walking back to my bicycle, I purchase some fried yams from the woman I passed earlier (this purchase is also placed in a black plastic bag). I tie my baskets on the back of my bicycle and take off for home.
The ride home is slightly uphill and today I stopped at a small stand near my neighborhood mosque to buy a few more items. A loaf of bread and two cans of coke (in a black plastic bag of course) are added to my other purchases of the day. The road from town to my house is very busy with foot traffic, motorbikes, and bicycles. I have to listen for car horns greeting me from behind, warning me to move over to the shoulder of the road. Children that saw me passing on my way to town are waiting at the curb of the road to wave as I ride back by, "slaminga" (white lady) they shout as they frantically wave. I respond, "daebaewula" (hello) and they shout in English, "Good morning, how are you?" I am peddling too fast to continue the conversation, but then more children are waiting and yelling as I pass them by. It's quite beautiful really, I am they most exciting sight of their day, and they are of mine...entry written on 30th August 2009.