Meal Fit For An Enemy

Write about what you would cook for an enemy.

http://www.creativewritingprompts.com/#


I enjoy cooking and try to show off some skill in the process. It’s not necessarily about flair and delicacy, but the pairing of flavors and finding different dishes and recipes. If I were to cook a meal for an enemy, I’d like to do a full meal: appetizer, main entrée, and dessert.

I’ve been wanting to perfect a dish using unsweetened dough for cream puffs, but instead of using the sweet cream filling, I want to find a way to create a fine, light olive paste. Or maybe blend cream cheese with some herbs: lavender and lime mix well. While these would usually be served chilled, but it would be neat and different to serve them warm.

The main dish should play on the flavors of the appetizer. So, the lime and lavender of the puffs could be balanced out with either something creamy or spicy. I would like to make a vegetable borscht goulash, but put in some spice. There are two ways I could do that: (a) mince a habanero pepper and put it into the dish to simmer or (b) cut the habanero into pieces but in such a way that I could fish them out later. However since I am cooking a meal for an enemy, I would do it the first way: mince the pepper and leave it in.

Dessert will not be cool to soothe now-burning palate of the diner. I love to go back to the original citrus flavors of the appetizer. Lemon-lime flavored meringues, key lime pie, or tangy plain yogurt with some fruit. How about, plain yogurt with lemon zest and blueberries.

Donations

I actually now have the means with the Laboure Society to start collecting donations toward my student loans.

If you would like to donate, and it's (a) tax-deductible, and (b) anonymous; please e-mail me at: lvngembrs@gmail.com

Spiritually Feverish

I feel like a quilt: my memories, my speech, my skills, and so much more. Information gleaned from Protestant & Catholic Bible studies, friends leaving their indelible marks behind, time leaves stray gray strands in my hair, my mind cluttered with psychology, theology, pop culture, and Godly longings.

All of me made up of different fabrics, stitched together over time; time fraying the edges of the quilt, as its not yet complete. Some are faded, others still brilliant, some tattered, others wholeheartedly replaced.

And like the actual quilts sitting in my room awaiting their last stitches, I’m not pleasing to others. Problem being that God’s my batting, my oomph.

I attended a Charismatic Catholic conference for the Labor Day weekend, and Monday I spent hanging out with friends watching a film about Karol (aka JPII), and Tuesday will have Bible Study and Wednesday spiritual direction.

Yesterday morning someone asked “Don’t you O.D. on it? Don’t you think that someone like you would know when to stop?” Calling on my degrees in social work, psychology, and sociology a family member was implying that having God as my all in all, my true alpha and omega as an illness. Illness vs. Fool for Christ; both could appear spiritual feverish.

Where would you like to be?

Ann Arbor sisters can't build fast enough to house new members

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Oh, to be Heard by my Lord!

I am aching to put my thoughts and feelings into words for you, yet the task lingers before me. Words and sentences fail me – nothing sounds quite right. Perhaps that is fitting?

Love is blind, especially when it comes to us loving Our Lord. We hear our Souls saying stark, simple prayers, then mutter in our beings that surely the Lord will not take our Soul’s groans seriously. Perhaps He thought us just thinking and not praying and requesting that He make us broken, or impoverished, or a Fool for Him.

I knew that I was going to suffer, and that the heartbreak would be beyond anything I could imagine or prepare. I could arm myself with His Armour (Eph. 6), but as I couldn’t imagine, I couldn’t prepare myself further, except through prayer. Thus I chose a prayer:

Holy Mother, pierce me through, In my heart each wound renew Of my
Saviour crucified. Amen.

This prayer to the Five Wounds of Christ had one repeating phrase pleading Momma Mary to take my heart into her holy hands, and present it to our Lord. He was then to say it be done to me, as it was done to Him! My heart was to bear each Wound of His Blessed Flesh, from the nail piercing and bruising from the hammer blows, to the gaping tear of the thrust lance.

And I broke. What else was I to do? I could not fathom praising Him. Why would I want to praise Him for pain? Two months later, I understand that is what I should be doing because I now know with every fiber of my Being that He hears me. What am I that He should listen to me? Listen, He does. It is more than many dare ponder.