WisdomEats: La Blonderie tart 

I am loving the markets filled with food and local cidre here in Normandy. I am cooking and eating out in equal measure. As one of the boys pointed out yesterday when I was dreaming of a holiday in a hotel with no clearing up, cooking or dish washing; I’d miss cooking in a kitchen if we stayed in a hotel. I think I could try it out for one year to see if he’s right!

I picked up a packet of ready rolled pastry the other day at the supermarket and thought it would be good to fill with the contents of our market finds and top off with Sinead’s hen’s eggs. As I type I’m sitting patiently beside the oven watching it carefully so it doesn’t burn or have a soggy bottom. 

Holidays do something wonderful to my mind. It slows down, it filters better, it clicks into a more creative space and its rests so much more easily. I love holidays. The need to actually go somewhere to rest has increased as I get older but I am realising the need of building in mini ‘holidays’ into my everyday weeks that can’t accommodate a change of scenery or jumping on a plane. Although a girl can dream…

Sinead and Phillipe Allart who own La Blonderie have really made this trip for us. Sinead is a wonderfully friendly and fiesty Irish woman (can’t think why I like her so much 😉). She has been our guide to this part of France, suggesting markets to visit, a local organic cidre producer to meet, a rosterie stall to buy roast lamb from on Sunday for lunch and her own guide to the WW2 Normandy landings. When we arrived at the gite there were fresh eggs from her chickens, fresh cut flowers from her gardens and milk and juice in the fridge. Because it was Bastille day and everywhere was closed she’d also a local restaurant to recommend that she knew would be open as most places were closed for the public holiday. She’s an absolute star. Sinead also brought us croissants and a homemade cake at the weekend! She also runs a cookery school which I would definitely come back for http://www.wildekitchen.net/ I’m already hinting that it would make a great birthday present some year. 

Anyway back to the tart! 

Ingredients:

  • Ready rolled pastry – I used puff you can use shortcrust, puff or filo you choose 
  • 2 tbsps sun dried tomato paste
  • Sliced red pepper
  • 1 or 2 tomatoes deseeded and roughly sliced
  • ½ a chorizo sliced 
  • ½ a goats cheese
  • 4 slices of Brie
  • 4 free range eggs whisked 
  • 1 tsp any herbs you like 
  • Salt and pepper 

Method: 

  • Butter a pastry tart tin and put pastry in
  • Spread tomato paste on the bottom
  • Layer Chorizo and veg in the tart
  • Gently pour over the eggs 
  • Arrange the cheese on top
  • Sprinkle with herbs and seasoning
  • Bake in oven at 180c for 30 mins but keep an eye on it in case it burns or it might need a minute or 2 more. Take from oven and let it rest for 5 mins before serving. 
  • Serve on its own or with green salad and/or wedges/baby potatoes 
  • Bon appetite 

Be kind to yourself 


Some days life feels overwhelming. My mind is overloaded. My heart heavy. My emotions in the driving seat. My body weary. 

Yesterday had its share. My response is not always the right one, I’m not always kind to myself or those around me. The ‘shoulds’ get very amplified, and they demand loudly that I ‘do do do’ and ‘fix fix fix’. Sometimes my only response is to crawl under the duvet with coffee, chocolate and a box set. But I’m learning although at times that is the kind thing to do sometimes it’s not the kindEST. Instead yesterday I put on my earphones, put the lead on Reuben and went for a walk down a country lane and I danced, I jumped and I worshipped loudly – checking to be honest that the only living beings around were the cows in the field. Cause I wasn’t feeling that terribly brave or righteous but incredibly desperate for a space to connect with my God. 

I cancelled plans to see friends today cause I knew I was still fragile and one of their replies is my word to you today:

YOU DO WHAT YOU NEED TO AND PLEASE BE KIND TO YOURSELF. 


Here’s my jumping about like an edgit song. Take a listen –

Alive in the river – Kim Walker 

 https://youtu.be/7jE-ODROpyY

Boxer shorts

mbox4700-stay_1_1

I live with 4 adorable men sized males.  Some weeks I pick up, wash, dry, fold and sort into piles at least 30 to 40 pairs of boxer shorts, it actually feels like twice that amount!!  I have a large load washing machine and I can easily fill it just with boxers!

Let me tell you how a simple pair of boxer shorts transformed into a symbol of dignity and compassion from a mundane chore.

I promised more accounts from our trip to Calais and Dunkirk.  One of the first days of our trip we heard about the need for boxer shorts (no briefs – the preference is very much boxer shorts)

We chatted about it with Brian & Diane our dynamic duo stationed in a caravan between Calais & Dunkirk for 6 weeks (on their way home just now – Brian took unpaid leave to go – hero or what?!). They have been our beach head of compassion from VCD if you like.  (follow their antics here). The area is littered with German WW2 bunkers and defence structures all along this part of Northern France.  The Dungannon to Dunkirk brigade have fundraised and galvanised support for the refugees and on our first night there we chatted about how to use some of the money to supply urgent needs.  The conversation quickly landed on boxer shorts.  A few phone calls later we had ordered 800 pairs of boxers direct from a supplier though our middle man in Dungannon to be delivered straight to the Calais.

One week later, by this time we’re back home but I’m still dreaming of the refugee’s most nights, and the 800 pairs of small & medium mens boxer shorts arrive at the Calais warehouse and within 3 hours they are ALL distributed.

800 felt like a lot to me.  But when you have over 3500 people in the Calais camp alone, it feels like a drop in a bucket.  800 pairs of boxers arrive, are sorted by volunteers, are delivered to the camp by more volunteers and are distributed with dignity and compassion by yet more volunteers.

Lets look at that chain of compassion.  2 men from rural Northern Ireland get broken hearts watching the scenes on the news of refugees arriving by the thousand, desperate, destitute and determined.  Nigel and Brian head off in a camper van full of donations with 2 others in Nov. They come back even more broken hearted and now equally focused on doing something  more to help.  They begin to tell the stories of the people they met, of the terrible conditions and the immediate needs and they began to gather more people, money and resources.  15 go out in February with another  camper van filled with donations. 2 are sent out in April for 6 weeks with a caravan full of donations and a dream to do more.  Small short-term teams join them during that time, more people from Vineyard Church Dungannon and others join in too including a team from Causeway Coast Vineyard and a couple from Emmanuel Church in Lurgan.  The kind generous donations are converted in this instance into 800 pairs of boxers.  The black bin liners full of donations have been delivered, sorted, distributed, and still the need grows.

So many people form the links on this compassion chain that provided a simple pair of boxer shorts.  Every person in this chain is vital, every £1 matters.  Every volunteer that makes the journey to Northern France to ‘do something’ matters.  Be it for 6 hours, 6 weeks or 6 months.

We cannot avert our eyes to wave of humanity who are already on our doorstep, to the hundreds arriving each day and the many more already heading our way.  We need to send aid in Syria and around that entire region, absolutely 100% we do.  But we also need aid and solutions for the mass exodus of humanity already on the move.

Will you take your place on the chain? Send money. Donate your stuff.  Rearrange your holiday plans.  Use your annual leave and go serve.  The Church of our Lord Jesus Christ, His body has an opportunity no more than that a responsibility to be His light, to pour out His love, to share our wealth, to show mercy.

LET’S GO!!! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR???

 

You’re in? Great here’s some links below to help you or email me direct on michelle@vcdgn.co.uk if are thinking of going out and want some advice on planning your trip.

VCD Dungannon to Dunkirk Facebook Page – updated regularly with info on ways to help

Help Refugees Facebook Page – updated regularly with the most urgent needs.

The back story 


I’m often overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness when I read about injustice or the casualties of war or the victims of disaster (man-made or nature).  My mantra is once you know about something that’s wrong then you must act, even in the smallest of ways, to do something. I refuse to be uninformed, to avert my eyes. This leads me to live in place of frustration, knowing that I could do more, should do more, that our western privilege bears a cost that we aren’t paying. 

Last week we travelled to Calais in Northern France; Jason, Micah, Matthew and I. We have dear friends Brian & Diane Cummings from our church who have given up 6 weeks to go and serve with the charities supporting the refugees in Calais and Dunkirk.  This is Brian’s third trip out in 6 months – when he came back after the 2nd trip (he took 14 others on that one) and told us that the church needed to be out there on a longer term and that he was going back for longer I thought he was a bit mad, but I could see the fire in his belly and the determination in his eyes would not surrender to my common sense, or even to Diane’s voice of reason!! 

Brian and Nigel Graham have pioneered our involvement.  These men are incredible in their ordinariness. Typical hard working, family men of as few of words as possible, preferring to just get on with it and get the job done. When you see men like them moved to tears by what they have seen, then you listen. We listened. We helped make plans, we promised our support and we said we might come out and visit them.

Our sons had a part to play. When they heard the February teams’ account of the living conditions that people where in and that there was ways to help they announced that they wanted to go next time. When they heard that Auntie Diane and Uncle Brian where going for 6 weeks they told us we had to take them! Not the best timing I thought – Matty has GCSE’s this month, Micah AS’s and Caleb A’levels. We scheduled it as best we could which sadly meant Caleb couldn’t come this time 😦

In the past couple of years since the refugee crisis has begun to affect us here in the UK, the information and vast swathe of opinion about what we should do/shouldn’t do, can do/can’t do is confusing to say the least. My confusion leads to indecision that soon breeds inaction. All the time there’s this still small voice, simple in its clarity. ‘The earth is the Lords and the fullness thereof.’ Cutting through the arguments of immigration quotas, the in or out of Europe, the rights of our citizens over the rights of strangers, cutting through the selfish bias that raises its head in my heart to look after my own first, the fear of ISIS. ‘The earth is the Lords and the fullness thereof’ (1 Cor 10) followed by “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, ” Matthew 25:35-36

These words cut through the confusing arguments and shine light on the humans caught up in the fray. This is God’s earth, His alone, how ridiculous our man made borders and possession of land must look to Him. What right have we to natural resources more than any other of His children? The only way to respond to our brothers and sisters stuck on our border is to clothe, feed and care for them until they are invited in. 

It was this still, becoming louder voice that lead me to Calais last week. 

The path home

178040e670c69140bfddf011ef0ca7d8

I get lost sometimes. I isolate myself. Shut myself off. Hide. I long to shrink, to take up less space. I try to become invisible and then before I know it, it’s difficult to make my way back. The light is dim, the path hidden, my mind confused. By far the most disorientating part is when I can’t find Jesus. I know He never leaves me. I know that He is the beginning and the end. That His love never fails. That His mercies are new every morning. I know that nothing can separate me from His love. I know all these things and more and yet when I’m lost, the facts start to drown out the truth.

(I didn’t intend to be this honest.)

I’ve loved Jesus as far back as I can remember, I surrendered my life to Him the first time when I was 7. I know His love like I know the shades of grey, purple and blue in the sky. But when I’m lost it feels like the further I am from myself the more difficult it is to sense Him. We are inextricably linked and never more is this evident than when I’ve wandered from who I really am and the link becomes tenuous and the panic creeps in. I need to get back. I long to sense Father God’s love. To have the truth drown out the facts. To see my Jesus.

The path back is a well worn one, when I find it. I borrow others carefully written prayers and melodies. I listen when I cannot yet sing. I allow the music and words to wash over me and my heart stirs. The blanket of Jesus presence gently falls on me. And soon all I see is Him. My fears that drove me to hide are fenced in by His love. My failings are awash in His grace. My weariness is erased as I sit and wait for His strength. This path is marked with clarity and revelation of who He is. There is always more on this path, a new part of Jesus to discover. A fresh truth to devour. He becomes large as I worship Him and the link between Him and I grows stronger. My faith expands. My spirit fills again and again with the Holy Spirit. I sing then because I cannot, not sing. My heart bursts, it burns with first love and sometimes this shadlowland world is illuminated with the white light of His glory.

And I’m back. I’m alive again. Never more alive than when I’m worshipping my Jesus.   Never more fully Michelle, than when I’m gazing on Him. The psalms are my beacons in the lost place. Hymns and songs are the lamps at my feet. And I realise that Jesus has walked me out of the hiding place, sat me down at His table at the place that He has prepared for me, in full view of all and everyone. His daughter.   Worship leads me home.

 

 

(soundtrack for this post Steffany Gretzinger – The Undoing)

 

This post first appeared on awakenvineyard.com blog  here in January 2015, I  accepted a kind invitation from my friends at Cincinnati Vineyard Womens Ministry to write a piece for them.

self care

 

il_570xN.813048215_obvw

Alarm bells go off in my soul when I’m at the end of my tether.  This is their sound. One, overwhelming tiredness that looks like loosing my thought mid-sentence and not even realising I’ve stopped talking. Two, that awful whirring feeling inside like I’m on a hamster wheel and can’t get off because THERE’S TOO MUCH TO DO, and if I don’t keep that wheel moving then the whole world will actually stop spinning on its axis, and it will be my fault, because obviously I’m so important to the worlds entire existence (joke).  Three, I’m pretty horrible to be around, i.e. more feisty than normal and with no grace whatsoever.  Four, I can’t sleep properly and have nightmares. Five, I either overeat or if I’m already over the edge can’t eat at all.   I think that’s enough to be going on with my vulnerability bell is starting to chime.  I’m sure you can add your own to my list, pause for a moment, what makes your alarm bells sound?

pause

My temptation is almost always to ignore the early dings until the alarm becomes incessant.  Then I hit the snooze button, which looks like addressing the most obvious problem which is enough to stop the noise for a while but before long the alarm sets off again often louder and more insistent.

I’m learning to care for myself in ways that turn the alarm bells off.  I’m leaning into self-care in ways that I never have before.  I see it as a gift in this season of my life.  In fact i’m seeing many gifts in this season but right now this is the most pressing.  I know the things in my life that bring me joy and refill me, thankfully I haven’t had to begin that journey of self-discovery my sense is though that some of you are so far gone and deafened by your alarm bells that you might need to start here by discovering what brings you life. Simply what brings you life?

life-giving care

Here’s a glimpse of my last 7 days of self care.  I made a playlist last week of worship music to go to sleep too, useful for the nights when I can’t get over or wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare or anxious.  And it worked, I think I heard 2 ½ songs and I was gone.  I cooked up a storm, all weekend.  I discovered years ago during a period of Post Natal Depression that the therapeutic stirring, chopping, smelling and tasting in cooking was my therapy, it still is.  I put on some music, and I made dinner for my family, we sat around the table and we enjoyed the food and each other.  Sunday we did all again, different menu, a few adopted in extended family and we ate, we laughed, we passionately discussed, we savoured the food and we lingered over Rhonda’s amazing Lemon Meringue Pie (Mary Berry’s recipe she insisted I can’t imagine hers being any better than Rhondas!).

 

On Monday I called in the cavalry when I had to get off the hamster wheel but couldn’t find the exit – I text a friend who came to my side and talked me down.  Later that night I text my women and asked for prayer and I felt their prayers answered as God filled me with strength again.  And today I slept, just a couple of extra hours.  It wasn’t my body that required the extra rest but my mind and my soul where oh so weary.  Times before I would have felt guilty about this one, the accusing voice in my head telling me “you’re lazy”, but I’m choosing to listen to what I need right now and if thats sleep, I schedule some time for sleep.

 How do you care for yourself? and a more pressing question; when did you last do something that was purely to care for yourself?

image

Our souls are precious and their health is important.  Our soul is like a well.  It needs replenished and it needs to be kept clean of debris and stagnant water.  All the people in our lives that we pour into drink from our wells, this is not a selfish endeavour in fact I’d argue that it a selfless act to care for ourselves.  We have one life and I want to run mine and finish my race.

 

 

 

When fear tries to steal your soul 

  The news from Paris is rightly frightening and devastating. People intentionally and callously destroyed in the name of a depraved cause. A cause which funds itself  from selling children, girls and women into forced ‘marriages’ where they are raped, violated, abused and then often resold. A cause that can justify that, can justify the terror they reigned on Paris last night.  

It’s ok to be sad. To rage with righteous anger. To feel the weight of what’s happening in Syria and its borders. To be frustrated with the complexities and what’s the right thing to do. But let’s determine to not give fear a hold. 

You see I can feel it’s icy grip on my soul. Can you? Sadly I recognise it’s imprint. This past 3 weeks I’ve stood toe to toe with fear. Refusing to let it take hold of my heart. We have been battling fear as a family. The details too personal to share and to be honest the details are not as vital as what we are learning. I have heard fear’s voice, I have felt it clutching at my heart, taunting my mind – especially in the night. I don’t remember a time when I have recited scripture so vehemently. I wake up, feel the knot tighten in my stomach and I begin again …

‘there is no fear in love, perfect love casts out all fear’ 

And I repeat it until the knot begins to loosen, until the spiral of thoughts that steal my peace are quietened enough for my sleep to return. 

Fear will not define our family or any of our futures. I refuse to let it. In the middle of one of the hardest seasons of my life I cling to my God and His promises over our lives. He is absolutely and completely real; all those who doubt. He is near. Father God is visible in the kindness of our closest ‘people’. The Holy Spirit whispers hope and purpose and eternity into my weary soul. My Jesus is close, he really meant it when he said He’d never leave me or forsake me. 

So in the midst of the terror on our news, don’t be tempted to turn it off and bury your head under a pillow. Instead fight the fear that it can bring. Lean into praying with confidence like you maybe never have before. Do not let fear steal your soul, your peace, your dreams of a good future for you and your family, and their families families. We have an inheritance. We are the people of Father God and we will not be shaken. Take courage friends. Take courage, stand firm and fight fear with love, joy and peace in the Holy Spirit. Let’s lead the way in this, let’s not let the fear bring terror. That’s the intention after all.  Let faith arise and our real enemy will be scattered. This is how we push back the darkness. Your Kingdom Come Lord. 

The tide is turning …

imageI bought a different newspaper today for the first time in 16 years!! And your question is – why are you blogging this??? The reason I chose a different paper, with an entirely different political stance than my usual? I was influenced by my 17 year old. No other person or commentator influenced my decision but the rational, challenging argument put forward by my son Caleb. It got me thinking…

The tide has turned. I am delighted to admit, I am being influenced by my sons.

I remember fondly the years when they were just mesmerised by me. When their faces lit up for their dad and I like for no one else in the whole world. When it was me who needed to answer every question, when it was our opinion that mattered the most. Who’s approval they longed for. Parents of pre-teens, savour this exhausting stage when you feel like the last drop of life is being sucked out of you! Savour it because it’s short and yes it is exhausting because that’s exactly what they’re doing, taking every bit of your influence before they spread their net to include the rest of their worlds.

Pour out all the good stuff in your heart, soul and mind. Pour it all out, refill it and pour it all out again.

1st year (year 8/age 11/ start of middle school/ 6th grade) is the year of gradual shift. New bigger school, new friends, teachers that treat them like the ‘adults-in-training’ that they are. Their minds start growing and expanding, and their hormones are just kicking in. As parents we begin to feel the pulling away – the tension in the apron strings.

TRUST THEM.

Trust yourself to loosen the strings. Remember all you’ve invested. Remember every ounce of yourself that you poured in. Trust that inside your ‘adult-in-training’ is an infinite amount of good, an infinite amount of hope, of love, of promise in them, about to be mined in the painful process of growing through the teenage years. Trust Jesus who loves them even more than you do – I know it’s difficult for us to fully except this truth – but it is the truth nonetheless. He does.

HELP THEM.

Help them find a few good influences to include in their nets. You can’t be too intentional about this. Be on the look out. Who of your friends do they connect with – encourage those connections. Youth groups that mirror your family values are vital at this stage too, inside and outside of church world. Your influence isn’t over, it continues but please accept the shift; for their sake more than yours. Lavish love on and encourage their friendships that BRING them life; think full-on positive affirmation.

1st through 3rd years are tense. It’s all readjustment, loosening the strings, trusting the influences, trusting each other and adjusting boundaries. Letting go is hard but absolutely essential. At times you will let go too much and you’LL have to grab on a bit more for another while. Other times it’ll feel too hard and painful and you’ll have to force yourself to let go again.

HOPE.

But hope is on its way.   There’s a stage coming, one that we’re right bang in the middle of right now. (5th, lower 6th, upper 6th/ 15, 16 &17 years). When one day you will realise that your wonderful, messy ‘adults-in-training’ are actually influencing you!! Yes it’s true. My boys inspire me. They challenge me – EVERY SINGLE DAY !! I mean they challenge me in a way that causes me to grow as a person not just as a parent. They challenge my less than gracious or loving attitude when it raises its head.   They challenge my pre-conceived notions that I present as truth. They challenge me to try new things. Sorry Matty but you haven’t succeeded in making me love dance music yet or Liverpool but you do challenge my belief that i’m always right 🙂  They inspire me to love the things they love. Films, superheroes, and to be more hospitable and inclusive (Micah). They inspire me to see God in a fresh way as they develop their own personal, intimate relationship with Jesus.

It feels like the tide is turning. We are in a season of a beautiful rushing in and out of influence and inspiration. We still give, but oh how we are receiving back too.

HOLD ON

Hold on parents of babies, and tinies, and little ones, and pre-teens, and just teens! The tide will turn, the days of giving out continue, but the days of rich receiving are on the way.

An Imperfect Mammy

tea-towels-clothes-line

Being a Mammy (must be said in an irish accent!) is hard bloody work. And yes that was half a swear. Bloody only counts as half a swear in our house; it falls into the ‘not a very nice word and please don’t use it in front of the grannies word, but if you need to be expressive and you’re really annoyed then ok’ category.

Recently I failed miserably on Mammy front; shouting like a banshee through a closed door at one of my precious boys being the huge low point. I think I was more glad that the door was between us than he was. The calm, firm, honest conversations of that evening have brought a peace back to us. I wish I’d just moved straight to that tact instead of allowing the rush of blood to my head to power my legs upstairs and the shouting match to erupt.

My boy went to school feeling angry and hurt. I went to work feeling like a huge failure, sure that  the 5 mins of crazy had undone at least 5 years of patience and love. And then I text my women. My women who speak truth over me when I need it, the hard truths as well as the affirming ones. My women who know me and love me anyway – insecurities, weaknesses, ugliness, strengths and all. (Because if we’re honest sometimes our sisters’ strengths are the hardest to bear – they reflect our weaknesses in such a dim light and illuminate our insecurities.) My women who each replied with a message so full of earnest love that I cried as I read them. By the time the tears dried they had filled me with strength and a determination to continue being the ‘best’ mammy I can be to my boys, as imperfect as that is.

We are the generation who grew up blaming our parents for everything broken in us and now in turn we live with the fear that our children will do the same to us.  I’m tired of mummying under the weight of that fear.  As soon as I faced my first tantrum head on (approx. 16 yrs ago!) I realised that I was going to fail by my own standards.  The fear grew from that day on.  Now with 3 teenage sons, I fail most days, or probably every day to some extent or the other.  I’m weary with the weight of the fear that I’m messing their lives up forever.  So I’m deciding to lean into love instead.  Love casts out fear. extinguishes it.  eliminates it.  Disarms it.  I’m leaning into love; for my boys but mostly for myself.  You see I know that I desire only good for my boys, I would everyday give my life for them in a million different ways.  Loving myself is more complex.  I swing between being incredibly selfish and hyper critical of every act and motive.  To love is the better way.  Real love. The Father’s love alive in me and moving out of me to others.

 
Love is patient; love is kind. Love isn’t envious, doesn’t boast, brag, or strut about.There’s no arrogance in love;  it’s never rude, crude, or indecent—it’s not self-absorbed. Love isn’t easily upset. Love doesn’t tally wrongs  or celebrate injustice; but truth—yes, truth—is love’s delight!  Love puts up with anything and everything that comes along; it trusts, hopes, and endures no matter what.  Love will never become obsolete. (1 Corinthians 13 The Voice)