How To Say It

I'm sitting in the dark of my apartment living-room.  I don't know what I'm going to say, what words I'm going to put here.  I know only that I need to write.  I need to write because it's in me, because it's good, and a reminder of all things good, and because my Mom, my sweet Momma, was so supportive of my writing, and so proud.  She saw something in me, and she pushed me to pursue it, the push I needed... the push I'm feeling dreadfully alone without.

I'm so weary of these emotions, these heavy, weighted emotions.  But, they're not done with me yet.
Not yet.

It's so difficult to see God's goodness anymore, even though I've seen so much of it, been blessed so strongly by it.  Now, in the dark, in the depth of this intolerable loneliness, it's difficult to trust that goodness.







This is heavy ya'll, and I'm sorry.  I don't want to grouch.  I want to say sweet, artistic, heart-blessing things.  But I have to tell the truth.

The truth is, life isn't easy.  Life hurts.  And I wish it would stop.

And, yet, deep down, there is goodness.  There is, because it was goodness that led me to open my computer, to ease my grief with the pressing of words onto this page, to open the black box of my loneliness, and share.

Because, dear readers, we must always share.  The hurt and the hope, the cold and the warmth, the truth, heavy, hard, and sweet.  Bittersweet.  But still sweet.

And all this heaviness, the broken words scattered here, are tokens of the goodness that will never leave us, nor forsake us.

A goodness I will find again, someday.

Thanks for listening,

-  Emma Pearl

And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.  And his delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. - Isaiah 11:2

³ 

In Praise

Is it offensive, do you think,
when I gush about my family?
When I smile a secret smile,
remembering my mother,
my father?
I know I am lucky, that so few
men and women
my age
were raised faithfully
from the opening of newborn eyes,
the stretching of red, warm, limbs,
into the realization of firm adulthood.

There are few of us who recognize
the weakness
of our parents,
the humanity of the men and women
who conceived us
birthed us
loved us,
few who know that
honor,
and respect,
mean blessing that humanity,
blessing those humans,
once warm and new themselves,
for doing their very best,
for heaving shining swords
at the sharp edge of life
that runs toward us,
their children,
for fighting while bleeding because
they would not see
one they love
broken,
wounded,
maimed.

They are never perfect.
No.  So often they are wrong,
so wrong.
Yet, so often they are right
beyond right.
We have not lived
the long and painful years
they have.
How can we argue?
How can we not love the very ground
their youthful feet once walked?
How can we not honor the effort
they made,
to build us and shape us,
bright monuments
to the goodness
that can be found,
that is,
warm and breathing
in the raw imperfection
of the human race?

-  Emma Pearl

This poem is a little different, less old fashioned in tone, one might say, than my normal writing, my attempt to be poetic in a modernist manner.  That, and a bit of a rant, the words that flow when a blessed person like myself, being away from home, misses her family very much.  Hope you enjoyed!

A Time to Share

I have never shared a recipe before, though they are crowded into my mind the way grass crowds moist ground.  I love cooking, actually, and know for a fact that those who find their way to our table never leave it unsatisfied.

I thought I'd share one of our family favorites, the one always mixed and baked to perfection my brother, James.  This is, actually for the benefit of Hanna, from Honey and Jam, whose wonderful blog has a habit of making me reach for a mixing bowl, drawn by mouth-watering photos and a shared love of good, well made food.

Lemon Squares

3/4 cup butter (softened)

1 1/2 cup flour

1/2 cup powdered sugar

Mix butter, flour, and powdered sugar, until well blended and crumbly.  If the butter is not soft you will need to cut it in.  Pat into ungreased 9x13x2 baking dish.  Bake 20 min. at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

3 eggs

3 T. flour

1 1/2 cup sugar

3 T. lemon juice ( freshly squeezed is best)

Mix well and pour over crust.  Bake for 20 min. at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.  While still hot, dust with powdered sugar.  

Eat quickly as these are apt to disappear rapidly.

And, for Genevieve, I am sharing the recipe for the dessert we've served for Christmas dinner 3 years in a row. I don't expect we'll stop serving anytime soon.

Streusel Squash Dessert

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup cold butter

STREUSEL TOPPING:

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons cold butter

1 cup chopped pecans

FILLING:

1 medium butternut squash (4 pounds), peeled, seeded and cubed

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 cup cornstarch

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

2 cans (12 ounces each) evaporated milk

4 eggs

Whipped cream and additional cinnamon, optional

In a bowl, combine flour and sugars; cut in butter until crumbly. Press into an ungreased 13-in. x 9-in. baking dish. Bake at 350° for 15-20 minutes or until edges begin to brown. In a small bowl, combine brown sugar, flour and cinnamon; cut in butter until crumbly. Stir in pecans; set aside. 

Place squash in a large saucepan and cover with water; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until tender. Drain. Transfer to a blender or food processor; cover and process until smooth. In a large mixing bowl, combine the sugars, cornstarch and seasonings. Gradually beat in 4 cups squash, milk and eggs until smooth (save any remaining squash for another use). Pour over crust. Sprinkle with topping. 

Bake at 350° for 55-65 minutes or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack. Cover and refrigerate overnight. Garnish with whipped cream and additional cinnamon if desired. 

Yield: 15-18 servings.

I hope you all enjoy!  There is something so blessedly wonderful in cooking, and sewing, and, sometimes, even cleaning.  

Emma

Words from the Heart

My ears are full of sounds... the clanking of a fork on a plate as my brother, just returned from a long day at college, eats his dinner,  the soft, homey tones of my parents' voices next to me, and  the sound of my fingers tap tapping across these keys.

Tomorrow is the concert.  The rescheduling seems to have raised my anticipation and my nervousness.  The people that will be there, that have never been, the family and friends who have never attended a concert of ours like this.  Somehow it makes my heart beat faster.

I have never been terribly nervous when before a crowd of strangers. I can sing and share with them, without thinking of what may happen afterwards.  But when it is with people I know my mind races uncontrollably from thought to thought, wondering what they're thinking, what they'll say when it is all over.  I stand there on the stage, singing, and suddenly my heart gets all tight within me and I sing, sing, sing, drawing a deep, relieved breath when it's over. 

 

Perhaps I am over romanticizing.  I think, perhaps, I do that too much, making the normal things in my life suddenly look like something from a book.  Are you smiling?  I am too.  The way I tell my tale is the way I tend to see it, from my widely opened eyes, looking out on the world in an uncommonly thoughtful manner. 

photo by Sam D. Ramsey

So, tomorrow is the day.  Tomorrow I shall wash my hair and carefully defuse it, then slip into my silky white and burgundy print dress.  I will borrow Johanna's white pumps and screw on my white drop earrings.  Then, I will walk, slowly, down the stairs, slowly as to mute the sound of my heels on the wood, then traipse out to the car and get in, ready to depart.

I pray for peace, and that God will pour from my voice the love He has for His people, that they may be blessed.

Emma

photo by Sam D. Ramsey