Attempting Homemade Naan

Last night, I attempt homemade naan (Indian flatbread).  I'm learning that trying new culinary tasks--especially ones with great potential for failure--represents part of living with flair.  I survived Italian Cooking Lessons, so why not try Indian food?

If I'm not risking disaster, maybe the task isn't worth trying. 

I make the dough and add fresh chopped garlic. With garlic, you press down until the clove escapes from its prison of sticky paper skin.  I imagine the work it takes to release a person from her protective shell; that pressure accomplishes a beautiful thing in us.  I have to remember this.

I let the dough rise all afternoon, return from teaching, and then roll out the dough.  I apply brushstrokes of rich yellow butter.

Rolling Out the Naan Dough

Then, I let the dough bubble and rise on the griddle. The smell of this garlic naan beckons the children toward the kitchen, their noses leading them.

Naan Bubbling on the Griddle

We feast on the Indian Naan with yogurt raita (I add coriander, cucumber, and diced tomatoes). 

Later, I think about how far I've come with these experiments in cooking.  I want to move on to other experiments and unexplored regions of my abilities.  Thank you for joining with me in these "experiments" of living with flair.

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What was your last life experiment? 

"Mommy, Today Was a Small Day"

My six year old whimpers beside me, "Mommy, today was a small day." 

"What made it small?" 

"There were not enough play dates or friends.  This was not a big day.  I need big days."

Already, I think about what kind of big life this little girl will lead.  She's challenging me to wake up to big days.  I don't want to ever have a day that's too small. 

I'll never have this day again.  Lord, let it be a big day.

Living with flair means we don't have small days.  

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Journal:  What would make today a big day?  

Let Yourself Loose

Driving on the highway in our little old Honda (the one with no air conditioning), I roll down every window and open the sunroof.  The little girls in the backseat shriek with laughter as the wind makes their hair fly all around them.  We drive faster.  I remember that April morning in 2010 when we let our hands fly in the wind in this same car. 

Live with Flair became my patient teacher back then; I had to learn to really live and, as Thoreau insisted, to "live deep and suck all the marrow out of life."  That was over a year ago now.

So I'm driving in my Honda at the same steering wheel I held in my hands before a wedding ring, a baby's finger, or any deep wrinkles set into my skin.  The children ask me to take my hair down.  I slide the elastic band out of my hair, unravel all of it, and let it loose.  It rises up and circles above my head.  I can't even see the road for a minute.

That's what it's like to cast off restraint and just surrender.  It might seem like a tangled mess and you won't be able to see where you are going.  But you'll be laughing.  It won't matter where you end up because the journey matters more.

My friend, the one who told me I was the perfect mother for my particular children said that she sometimes feels like a racehorse that just needs to be let loose to run and do the thing she was made to do.  I think of that picture on so many days.  Something holds us back.  I imagine the gate opening for us today and great beautiful horses released to run. 

Living with flair means you let yourself loose. 

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Journal:  What's holding you back? 

What Happens When a Person Teaches Verbs All Day Long

I give my freshmen students a list of 500 of my favorite verbs.  I tell them about grapple and fritter and elucidate and debunk.  I tell them how much I love the verbs restore and lavish.  

I leave class and hear the verbs all around me.  Some shimmer and delight; others depress and discourage.  I deflate when I think about criticize, complain, weaken and diminish.  I brighten when I hear celebrate, proclaim, manifest, and renew. 

After all these years of teaching writing, I start to see my life in verb form. I work to make them the kinds of verbs I want: 
 
Pray. Bake. Nurture. Teach. Discover. Write. Love. Enliven. Converse. Organize. Inspire. Connect. Encourage. Laugh. Shine. Hug. Rest. Hope. Mentor. Reveal.

I've learned.  Get rid of anything feeble, negative, or critical.  Edit out the verbs that don't make your life jump off the page. 

Living with flair means we choose the right life verbs. 
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Journal:  What 10 verbs animate your life? 

You Can Go Where Others Cannot

Today my daughter announces that she hates being so short.  "Everyone else my age is taller than I am!"

I want to deny it.  I want to comfort her.  I want to tell her to get over it. 

But she is rather short.  So instead of denying the truth of her statement, I remind her that God has a reason for everything. 

"Can you think of any reason why a loving God would let you be shorter than everyone else right now?"  I ask her, staring deeply into those little girl eyes that will undoubtedly face a lifetime of the kinds of disappointments and heartbreak that come with the human experience.  She will ask so many why? questions as the years unfold.  

She tilts her head to one side and ponders the thought.  "Well, I can get into places that most people can't."

This means she wins hide-n-seek.  This means she has an advantage in finding hiding places that suddenly makes her stature valuable.  What a change of heart! 

All day, this statement resonates in my heart:  "I can get into places that most people can't."  I talk to God about this, and I imagine this conversation: 

Yes.  You can go where others cannot.  That's what this confusion, this disappointment, this heartache is for.  Your experience gives you access.  It's a portal into a place others cannot--or will not--go. 

I find myself welling up. God speaks to my own heart through my daughter's answer.  Suffering allows you to "get into places that most people can't."  I think about ministry opportunities, writing projects, insights, amazing friendships, communities, and blessing after blessing because I went into beautiful spiritual and physical places I could only enter through the door of suffering. 

Living with flair means knowing that you can go where others cannot because of the things you've suffered. 

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Journal:  Where has your suffering allowed you to go?

"She was generous with her life."

Today, I hear a woman describe another woman by saying, "She was generous with her life.  She expected nothing in return for what she gave of herself to me." 

I dug into my purse to find my journal and pen to write down those words.

Something about the expression stung my heart.  I normally think about being generous with money, time, or acts of service.  But what about being generous with my own heart--giving my very self away--so others are blessed? 

I want to be generous with my life. 


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Journal:  What does a generous life look like?

All Seats Provide Equal Viewing of the Universe

I discovered this quote at the public library yesterday.  It's from the Museum Guide from Hayden Plantetarium inside a novel by Lorrie Moore.  I read it out loud and it seemed to catch in my throat.  All week I've wanted to go home to Pennsylvania.  All week I've imagined a different life.  It seemed, as I read it again, that some great voice of wisdom gently whispered in my ear. 

I turned to my daughter and read it to her.

"Do you know what that means?"  I asked.  "It means that no matter where you are, you have an equal chance to perceive the beauty of God."

When I want to trade seats to find a better view, I'm going to sit tight and realize my equal chance to see--right where I am--the beautiful things God wants to show me.  

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Journal:  What do I see today that proves I have an equal chance to see the beauty of God?

Does Losing Sleep Also Make You Crazy?

I know the thing that makes me the worst version of myself.

Lack of sleep.  Simple.

It's so hard to believe the truth, to stay positive and peaceful, and to rise above our circumstances when we are just plain tired.  Am I right? 

A wise woman once said to me, "Heather, sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do for yourself is take a nap."  Sometimes I wonder if depression in caregivers directly relates to lack of sleep. 

I need a nap.  One daughter successfully fought her virus, but the other vomited all over both beds and all the towels last night.  I told my friend in the parking lot this morning that I'm on my last load of vomit laundry.  I laughed.  Inside I was crying.

She said that would make a great blog title:  The Last Load of Vomit Laundry. 

Sleeping remains my singular goal today (besides comforting, hydrating, and nourishing sick children).  Living with flair means we recognize how sleep deprivation can keep us from living with flair. 

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Journal:  What happens to you when you lose sleep?

Getting Rid of All the Old Excuses

I'm at an indoor pool that features a climbing wall with a waterfall.  All the children climb up the wall and then jump off into the water. 

"You have to do this, Mom," my oldest insists.

I'm too old and out of shape for this sort of thing.  Besides, I would look like a fool. 

And that's exactly why I did it.  

(I only made it halfway up the wall, but I still did it!)

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Journal:  What activity does someone want me to try that I'm using all the old excuses to avoid? 

Humbled by Mountains

When you drive into Colorado, you'll soon discern the faint outline of the Rocky Mountains.  It's another source of the sublime:  mountains so huge that you think you're looking into the clouds instead of the white peaks of a mountain range. 

First you feel small in the expanse of the Kansas praire.  Then you feel diminished by the height of the Colorado moutains.  Either horizon humbles you. 

We are so very tiny in this great universe.  And yet we know and are known by God.  It's a wonder that keeps me living with flair.  It's a sublime truth I don't want to forget for a single day of my life.

We finally set up our little apartment here in Colorado.  My husband will take classes, and I'll be writing and teaching others how to write with flair.   With these huge mountains offering a great hug every morning, I can hardly forget the presence and power available to me. 

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Journal:  Do you ever feel humbled by something in nature? 

Promise Not to Laugh

I climbed into a giant hamster wheel with my children today.  

Then I put my hands into a tank of fish to let them eat the dead skin off of my fingers. I learn this constitutes a spa treatment in some salons.

It tickled and was very strange indeed. 

Then I went back to the hamster wheel to take funny pictures of my husband. 

We were visiting the City Museum in St. Louis on our way to Colorado.  

I decided (somewhere between the 11-story slide and the airplane you reach by climbing through a wire tunnel) to embrace some whimsy. 

So when my youngest asked me to get into the hamster wheel, I didn't hesitate.  And when my oldest told me I could get a manicure by fish, I didn't hesitate. I can honestly say that I accomplished two spontaneous and whimsical feats today.  I remembered learning the "Beat It" moves in my kitchen; this felt like that. 

What a day!  How was yours?

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Journal:  When I'm asked to do the next spontaneous and whimsical thing, will I hesitate?

Fling Wide Your Gate

Today in church, the pastor challenges me to "open wide the gate of my heart" to God.   I know that verb.   Open.  It means to remove obstacles and allow the kind of passage that makes an interior fully accessible.

Remove obstacles.  Allow passage.  I ask God to show me any obstacles that keep me from flinging wide the gate.  Whatever fear, whatever doubt, I want to live a life that gives Jesus full access.

A closed gate seems like safety.  It seems like protection and control.  But God awaits as the ultimate Protector--the ultimate Safety--who rushes in when I fling wide the gate. 

People who live with flair demonstrate that kind of vulnerability and that kind of trust.  They've made their lives fully available to the purposes of God--no matter what the obstacle.  They know that's the safest place.  That's the place of protection, peace, and provision.

I'm flinging wide the gate.

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Journal:  What obstacle keeps my gate shut?

My New Favorite Verb

My old favorite verb was grapple.  But I found a new one!

This week, I let the girls try cream soda for the first time.  Someone brought bottles of the stuff to a cookout, and we were left with several.

I love cream soda.  We are so eager to drink it that when we pour it out, it fizzes so much that we have cream soda all over the counter top.  We pour more, and I try the stick-your-finger-in-the-glass trick.  It works!  I'm not sure why, but it works. 

Later, I pour too much cream soda again.  It fizzes faster than we can sip it.  That volcanic eruption of carbonation all over the kitchen tells me to pour small amounts and wait. 

I slow down and watch the process.  Even a tiny amount will effervesce.  I think about this verb.  It means to give off bubbles or to be exceptionally vivacious and enthusiastic.  I learn two things about living with flair:

1.  I can do and have too much.  Pour small amounts and let things settle before doing more.
2.  No matter what God pours into my life, I want it to effervesce--spill over and give off--enthusiasm and vivaciousness.

Let us effervesce today.  And if we can't or won't, maybe we need more good stuff poured in.

Living with flair means I effervesce.

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Journal:  When was the last time you erupted with enthusiasm for something?

What the Strange and Horrible Odor Was

All day, a strange odor wafts through the entryway, the kitchen, the living room, and the hallway.  I'm actually on my knees, sniffing to discover the source.

"Can you smell that?"  I ask everyone who comes by the house. 

Finally, I trace the odor to the corner of the garage where I spy a tiny hole in the wall.  My husband comes home, and I just point my finger and declare, "Something is in there."

I run to safety inside the house (I'm a chicken) and leave my brave and wonderful husband alone in the garage.  With a flashlight and tools to cut into the wall, he finds the source of the impossibly foul and impressively permeating smell.

A tiny, deceased chipmunk.

Within a few minutes of removing the odor source, the entire atmosphere changes. 

All morning, I consider the power of that one small thing to overtake the whole environment.  That little thing became impossibly foul and impressively permeating.  I thought of my own life and those small things that inevitably change the atmosphere:  negativity, complaining, gossip, suspicion--all the not-flair that can overtake a life.

I'm on a mission to search and root out the smallest things that I imagine cannot really harm.  Actually, they do.  They quickly become impossibly foul and impressively permeating.  Living with flair means removing that odor source.  I pray God shows me quickly and thoroughly. 

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Journal:  What foul smelling thing do we need to remove in our lives?

Sally Smith Says, "You Can't Fall Apart Over Things Like This."

Last night I watch a woman, Sally Smith, standing in the rubble of her mother's home in Joplin.  She turns to Anderson Cooper and says, "You can't fall apart over things like this."

I burst into tears.  Can you imagine your whole life crumbling around you and saying that?  What does she know that I don't?  Sally Smith is firm in her resolve, smiling.  She picks up the pieces of dolls, trying to identify fragments.  Anderson asks her where you even start to build your life again after a tornado like this.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, but it will work out.  It will."

Anderson notices her t-shirt, and she says, "Life is good.  God does not give us anything we can't handle.  I know His hand is in it; I've seen too many things.  We'll be fine.  Saying good-bye to things is hard. . .

Anderson says, "You're about the most optimistic person I've met in a long time."

That's when she says, "You cannot fall apart over things like this."

Sally Smith has the faith, strength, and courage of a woman who lives with flair.  I just love her.  Will I ever be the kind of woman who can look in the face of disaster and proclaim the kind of truth that she can? 


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Journal:  When I'm complaining about any disappointment today, I'm going to remember Sally Smith in the rubble.  Where can you say, "You cannot fall apart over things like this"?

Do You Know a Mama Like This?

Do you remember the Italian Mama?  She taught me how to have a soundtrack to my life a year ago as I learned about sauce.  Then I studied meatballs and how to clothe both them and my own children.  In November, she instructed me in the fine art of relaxing and throwing those meatballs.  In December (during that awful cold) she brought enough baked ziti, turkey noodle soup, bread, and chocolate to feed a village.

Today, just when I needed it most, she hosted an Italian Mama's Lunch.  Since I'm partly Italian (and studying how to be an Italian Mama), I skipped down the street like a little girl going to her first party.  I couldn't wait!  I arrived to this: 

Roasted peppers, tomatoes, basil, four types of cheeses, meats, olives, artichokes, fresh bread, cannoli desserts, and freshly ground espresso comprised this lunch.  As we dined, I learned that Italian Mamas are always authentic, passionate, honest, generous, and so vibrant that they literally have to hug you, use hand gestures for every word, and talk about everything.  

Italian Mamas live with a particular kind of flair.  They can hold the whole neighborhood in their embrace.  Whatever suffering--whatever hunger--they can soothe it.  I know this:  Everyone needs an Italian Mama for a neighbor.  And even though I'm still learning how to be one, I know that I can also be that Italian Mama for someone else.  I want to live that passionately and generously.  I want to hug you and talk about everything.


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Journal:  Do you know a Mama like this?  Are you one of them? 

Desperate and Dependent

The Northern Cardinal eggs hatched this morning!

Baby Northern Cardinals

Fresh from their shells, those little mouths open so wide!   Feed me!  Feed me!

I love the desperation in those little beaks (especially the baby bird on the left).   So dependent!   Those eyes cannot see yet.  Those wings don't flap.  They contribute nothing.  I later learn that the father bird comes and feeds the baby birds.  There's something precious about this as I consider the truth in Psalm 81, where another Father commands his people to do nothing except one thing:  "Open wide your mouth and I will fill it." 

Might I lean back, open wide my life (even when I can't see the path) and let God fill me?  Desperate and dependent characterizes another way to live with flair.  We're baby Northern Cardinals, opening wide to the Father's provision today. 


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Journal:  Have you found God's provision when you are desperate and dependent on Him?

Espionage!

Our morning routine includes espionage.  We have to scour the backyard for secret information.  

Even in our bare feet, we tiptoe across the morning dew to snoop on the strawberries.

Then, we plunge inside the winterberry bush to spy on the Northern Cardinal who built a nest there this past week.

It doesn't stop there.  "We have to check on the beans!  We have to check on the beets!"   And we whisper because this is a garden reconnaissance mission, and I haven't even poured my coffee yet. 

That's what we do now.  After school, we'll investigate to see if the eggs have hatched at the vernal pond. 

I'm right there with them.  Living with flair means I'm spying on Spring.  We quiet ourselves, walk gingerly, and peer into secret processes.  You don't outgrow this kind of wonder.


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Journal:  How can I find some wonder outside today?

What You Have to Know

Typing Out My Flair

Yesterday, I receive a sweet email from a wonderful 5th grader in another part of the country.  She's the amazing girl who owns her own business and announced, regarding her appearance, that "a face without freckles is like the sky without stars."  Her story appeared in an August blog post. 

This email contains two questions for me to answer.  She has to know how long it takes me to blog and where I get my ideas.  Even though I want to get back to bed to recover from my cold, I can't resist answering her.  Such curiosity!  Such interest in somebody else!  I feel honored to be that somebody else.  I respond and tell her I normally work on my blog for 30 minutes to 1 hour a day (I don't have any more time than that!).  Then I tell her the great secret of living with flair:  I ask God in the shower every morning to show me the flair that day.  Then I start looking for the beautiful thing that reminds me of a spiritual truth that can help me live my life better.  It might be common; it might be small, but I can find it every day. 

Then, she asks me all about my Neighborhood Fitness Group because she wants to start her own.  I'm so impressed that I have to tell her everything--our dance music play list, our jumping jack challenge, our tendency to get rowdy and need adult supervision.  I even tell her about our Community Announcement time at the end when we talk about healthy eating and how to stay active in the winter.  

I imagine she will start her own group.  She's a 5th grader who wants to help her community.

I finish typing and get back to bed.  I'm thinking about my own children and how I might raise them to have curious hearts, to take an interest in other people's ideas and projects, and to launch their own neighborhood initiatives.  Being interviewed by a 5th grader reminds me that even children, especially children, live with flair that inspires me. 

I'm sure my freckled friend is on to other interviews today.  There are so many things she just has to know. 

The Next Step

My one-eyed cat, Jack, has taken another important step.  

Remember how wounded and sick Jack was?  How unattractive and miserable?   We brought him home and gave him all the love we could.   He'd lost his ability to purr.  He couldn't even meow.  His whole kitty identity seemed withered and dying. 

Then one day, he found his purr again, deep and rich and wild.  We were petting him, and we heard the slow chug, like some distant train coming from a far-off country.  He's purring!  Then, nearly a year into his recovery, he stood in the kitchen, proud and tall, and let out his first meow.  That kitty self was back. 

The One-Eyed Cat Serves

It gets even better.  Yesterday, I walk into my bedroom, and I see the once lonely and wounded kitty in a warm embrace.  He's holding another cat.  He's holding her still and bathing her face and the back of her ears!  As I watch this display, I realize that Jack's journey has reached yet another point of healing. 

I snap a picture of him and think of what it means to care for somebody.  The once-wounded cat is now serving others.   

Living with flair means that we don't stay wounded.  We press on, find ourselves again, and discover where we might serve.  Even if you've had a loss that changes how you see everything (and limits you), there's hope towards a journey of healing-turned-ministry.  Maybe that's the best kind.  Maybe Jack is particularly good at caring for other cats because he's come back from the worst. 

The One-Eyed Cat and His Friend

Maybe I'm particularly good at helping folks live with flair because I lived without it for so long.  How could I not offer an embrace, hold you still for a moment, and speak out whatever words might help make today meaningful?