Between Scents

Upon my arrival in Japan, my friend Caroleann graciously gifted me with a bottle of Bath and Body spray. Being a humid and largely un-air conditioned island, Japan can definitely benefit from such a gift.
Much like the oil in the lamp that never ran dry, that spray has lasted me all the way home and into the winter months of the mid-south. But alas, the time has come.
The bottle is on its last few sprays and my nose is ready for a new scent.

Long ago, I remember one of my sisters reading in a Bride's magazine that you should carefully select the flowers for your wedding, for everytime they are in bloom, wedding day memories will come flooding back.

The power of scent.

I've historically altered my "scent of choice" according to the season of my life and am intrigued to realize that time has come again. The bottle of coconut lime verbena could probably hold me a few more days, maybe a week even, but its time has come.

A dear friend gifted both Caroleann and I with some Body Butter as a welcome home gift, some months ago. Now that the heat has gone and taken the humidity with it, I have pulled out the Mango Body Butter and am putting it to good use. It's not a full size container, which means soon I will be here all over again, between scents, investigating options and settling in on the next season.

Rice Cookers and Crock Pots

You need to stir the pot, before it starts sticking.

I have been waiting for such a time as this and I think it has finally come- a pot stirring time.

I burned every soup and chili I ever attempted last year, cooking with gas in cheap cookware.

I finally found a means of cooking in Japan that was reliable and burn-proof: a rice cooker.
Yes, first I started off with mere rice, but oh, how things went from there.
Soon I was adding tomatoes, beans, taco seasoning (all imported from the States, of course). Dump it all in the rice cooker, push the magic button ( I only trusted one button- to this day I have no idea what the characters beside it actually said) go for a run, shower and dinner is served. Perfect, every time. No matter how long your rice sits, it never burns in a rice cooker. It is a wonder worth the marvel.

I'm only in my current abode for a limited period of time and must confess I don't really want to invest in all that it takes for meal preparation. Last night, in a fleeting moment of familiarity I dumped rice, beans, and tomatoes into my roommate's crockpot and left the house.
I eventually returned to a healthy but most disgusting and burned meal.

Bottom line:
A rice cooker just isn't a crock pot.

He makes the common Holy

I've heard more than once that it depends not on our ability, but on our availability.
Usually, that seems trite.
Tonight, it seems true.
Meeting in the Parish hall, with masking tape on the lights above our heads and wheels under the legs of the communion table, I saw the common and was reminded of the Holy.
Availability seems all I have to offer and it seems like a bit of a cop out.
Yet what I have I give him . . . give my heart.
So I am doing my best to not get in the way, to not make things happen of my own accord, to not stir the pot.
These are the ramblings of availability, seeking assignment.
These are the ponderings of faith in the winter, when it takes intentionality to go out into the cold, for surely no one would exit the warmth of their home just for the sheer fun of it.

Waiting

While we are waiting, come; while we are waiting, come.
Jesus, our Lord, Emmanuel,
While we are waiting, come.

The question is not of his coming, but of our waiting.

The former is not in doubt, while the latter often is.

We wait not.
Forgive us, Oh Lord, and teach us to wait once more.

Dark Chocolate

As a kid, I always wondered why they made dark chocolate.
Clearly no one liked it.
And then they had to go and get rid of it- be sneaky and slip in into the mixed assortment bags of Hersey's miniatures.
So why did they ever make it to begin with?
I now sit with a giant "Special Dark" chocolate bar, a gift from my roommate, and laugh at my childhood innocence.
Some things you grow to appreciate with time.