Christmas cookies on Thanksgiving

I've dragged myself into mid-December mode the last few weeks, buying gifts and addressing cards. I am a little out of sync because of my upcoming shoulder surgery; it hasn't been easy to skip past Thanksgiving and Chanukah, and without passing go, head directly to Christmas. I feel a little clumsy about this. The rhythms of time and the habits of celebration imprint themselves on our lives, which is one reason that a gear shift is so hard for many of us. Just when we think we've settled into a holiday routine, life changes. A baby is born. A child marries. A parent dies. Someone moves away or returns after a long absence.

I'm glad that I get to shift those gears back to where they belong today. I'm focusing on Thanksgiving preparations right now. This year, we're planning to spend time with our kids and grandkids throughout the day, and will also head over the river, through the woods, and onto I-88 to see some of our extended family. This isn't always the way our holidays work, so I am really grateful to the Giver for this particular gift. 

I am also grateful for the way my warm house smells right now. I've made salted bittersweet chocolate brownies and sweet potato kugel to bring to my sister-in-law's house, and I let a little bit of my December cookie-baking routine slip into the cooking frenzy today. I realized I'm not going to be able to make my trademark holiday cookie next month, so I decided to make my famous Cranberry-Chocolate Chip ribbon cookies today to share with my family when they begin arriving tomorrow. 

You can't really tell from the picture, but that recipe card is stained and yellowed, a mark of both its age and its heavy usage. You also can't tell that this recipe was a finalist in the Chicago Tribune Christmas cookie contest four or five years ago, but it was.

I've been making this recipe in December for probably a quarter-century now. Even cranberry haters like it, and one of the highest compliments I got was from a friend in MN who grabbed the recipe when I posted it a couple of years ago, and told me it is now becoming a part of her family's yearly December traditions. 

The whole delicious point of a food tradition is to take us back and help us remember who we are and where we've been together. If that doesn't create some thankfulness, then what will? 

Here's the recipe, in case you want to add it to your own holiday repertoire: 

Cranberry-Chocolate Chip Ribbon Cookies

Cranberry sauce:

1-1/2 C cranberries

1/2 C sugar

3 T orange juice

1 t orange peel

Combine first three ingredients in 4 C glass bowl, then cover with plastic wrap. Nuke for 6 minutes, stirring once. Mix in peel and let cool slightly. 

Dough:

3/4 C softened butter

2/3 C sugar

1 t vanilla

1 egg

2 C flour

1/2 t baking powder

pinch of salt

1 C mini chocolate chips

Mix butter and sugar together until blended. Add vanilla and egg to mixture, beating by hand until combined. Stir in flour, baking powder and salt until dough leaves the sides of the bowl. Mix in chocolate chips. 

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Divide dough into four parts. Shape each portion into a log approx 12" x 3/4" and place on an ungreased baking sheet. Use your finger to press a depression the length of each log. Spoon cranberry filling into the depression. 

Bake 20-30 minutes, until lightly browned. While the bars are still warm, cut on the diagonal into 1" strips.

Enjoy! 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Review: Englewood Review of Books, Vol. 1

I remember when one of my sons came home a few years ago with an armload of vinyl LP's. "That's dinosaur technology," I said. 

He disagreed. He loved the warm sound (complete with a few pops and crackles), the cover art, the liner notes and the experience of holding a piece of the artist in his hands. An MP3 just can't deliver that experience. 

The Englewood Review of Books has carved out a niche for itself in cyberspace as a thoughtful and wide-ranging book review site, with a side of poetry, essays and other miscellany that is meant to spark interaction among spiritually-hungry readers. My husband and I have both reviewed books for them over the last year; I found out about ERB in the most modern way possible, circa 2010 - I followed their twitter feed. (@ERBks, in case you're wondering.) 

They recently launched a print version of the site. In an era when newspapers and magazines are evaporating into the ether at a stunning pace, coming out with an ink and paper Englewood Review of Books is perhaps one of the most countercultural things the ERB team could do. But I have the sense that this is not all that different from when my son came home with vinyls in an MP3 world. Bill and I plunked down our shekels and became charter subscribers. 

I love Christianity Today's Books & Culture (though we're not subscribers at present), but believe there is room in the evangelical world to support an alternative vehicle for print book reviews. The first issue of ERB arrived here last week, a tidy little 40-page effort that tackles books very loosely grouped around the theme of space and includes reviews of Milbank, Zizek and Davis' Paul's New Movement, Jones and Musakare's Forgiving As We've Been Forgiven and Roden's America's Four Gods. There are a couple of author interviews (Sean Gladding, Willie James Jennings and Anne Jackson), a couple of poems, and a bit of editorial essay sprinkled in the mix. 

It is like the website, but it is not the web site's content repackaged and slapped into print. It is readable, but it is not light reading. In short, it is another way of creating a conversation about books, faith, culture and lifestyle, and is worth your consideration if you care about any of these things. 

And I'm not just saying that because I do some online reviewing for them. :)   

P.S. - Bloggers, you can get a free copy of the first-ever ERB print edition if you're willing to chat it up. Click here to learn more.

Happy meal

I remember the stage of life where a wave of "We're pregnant!" announcements would sweep through my circle of friends and acquaintances. It seemed that babies came in clusters, like sweet little grapes. 

One of the joys of being a grandparent: walking in the woods and swapping stories

Well, I've now come to the part of life where my friends are proudly announcing to the world that they're about to become grandparents. I had coffee and a bowl of cabbage soup (there's a grandma version of a Happy Meal if ever there was one) with a friend who just learned that her daughter was expecting. She was overjoyed, but told me she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around her new identity. "It's a little weird to be the grandparent," she said. "Grandparents are...well...old."

I reminded her that I became a grandparent at 44, and we both laughed. I said I had a hard time coming to terms with the generation shift, as well. I told her about when I first felt those gears shift at, of all places, McDonald's. 

I was visiting my daughter, son-in-law and grandson Gabriel when the three were living in El Paso, TX. I volunteered to take Gabriel for a few hours of grandma-grandson bonding time. We played at the park and then stopped at a nearby Mickey D's for a meal. I ordered him a Happy Meal, and as I unpacked the contents of the little red and yellow cardboard box inside the noisy restaurant, I was struck with the holy profundity of the moment. 

(Yes, it is possible to have a transcendent moment at McDonald's.)

When our three kids were preschoolers and we stopped at the Golden Arches for a meal, I would order the same thing for them every time: three hamburgers, a large fries and a large Coke with three straws. We couldn't afford to buy three Happy Meals. I also realized that even if we could afford to upgrade to a Happy Meal even once, doing so would have been a parenting misstep because we'd be doomed to a choir of whining every time we ate at McDonald's ever after. 

That day in El Paso with Gabriel, I didn't hesitate for a moment when placing my order for a Happy Meal. I could now afford both the cost and the consequences* of ordering the Happy Meal. 

Because I am a grandma.

*I know, I know. McDonalds burgers and fries don't decay, and may not even be real food.  

 

Review: Transform A City

The prayer Jesus prayed at the conclusion of the final Seder he shared with his disciples has been debated, parsed, over-theologized (no, that's not a real word), misapplied and ignored. 

And it has gone largely unanswered. True, some of us have experienced some appetizer-sized moments of brilliant oneness with other believers, but for the most part, the 35,000+ identified denominations, along with the countless other individual independent congregations, house churches and miscellaneous other expressions of body life testify to a watching world about our propensity to separate, not unify. My sadness over our schismatic ways led me to get involved with Catalyst, now known as Christ Together, several years ago. It's been a delight to see churches who have labored side-by-side like disconnected silos in this county begin to interact with one another in prayer, service and learning. The "big C" Church in Lake County has miles to go in terms of fully responding to the prayer Jesus prayed, but it has been encouraging to watch those first baby steps leading to more steps. 

Eric Swanson and Sam Williams have served and/or coached other leaders in "city-reaching" church unity movements around the world, and have penned a practical guide for those interested in the notion entitled Transform A City: Whole Church, Whole Gospel, Whole City. This 218-page hardcover marries the theology behind these movements to lots of real-life examples. It was a fun surprise to discover Catalyst/Christ Together mentioned as an example on page 112 of how a community-wide church relational network is formed and functions. 

The book attempts to construct a theological framework for the notions of "city"and "kingdom", as well as describing how and why regional relationships between church leaders across the spectrum are formed, nurtured and maintained. Swanson and Williams throw out a lot of ideas in the book, and at least a few of them may challenge the theological comfort of some readers. They are not endorsing kum-bay-yah group hug ecunemism by a long shot, but some conservative church leaders may not be willing to participate in some types of service-focused community partnerships the two suggest. Hey, conservative pastors - I urge you not to throw the baby out with the bathwater when you read this book. There is much in here that will help form and challenge your thinking as you try to discern how you can share the good news with your city. 

One area of concern for me: I was a bit bothered by the Alpha Male emphasis in the book. Few women leaders were named, and the writers were definitely aiming their woo at the Big Dawg megachurch pastors, with some Plan B suggestions for leaders of smaller churches with a burden to reach their city if no Mega leader wanted to use his influence to nurture a local relational, missional network. I understand the pragmatic realities behind Swanson and Williams' instruction, but can't entirely discard upside down images of mustard seeds and yeast as portraits of spiritual transformation that changes everything. 

However, the book is a very valuable read for anyone interested in thinking through the nitty-gritty of what it might look like to live an amen to Jesus' desire for us: "I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you" (John 17:20-21).

*I received a review copy of this book from the publisher.