Gluten Free Bread

There isn't much better than warm, homemade and gluten-free bread on a sunny weekend :) At least that's what I felt when I was crunching on my marmalade toast! And a cup of tea of course. And the beautiful thing is, it's just so easy to make. Something crazy like: 500g of flour/ 1 sachet of yeast/ 1tsp salt/ 1 tsp sugar/ 2tbsp vegetable oil and 500 ml warm water! Give it a go, you won't regret it! Obviously, the skill is needing and creating the perfect dough- but I have to be honest and tell you I used a bread-machine for this one. I'll have to try it by hand next time, but this one tasted perfect, anyway, this is just a little taste of a yummy blessing we can enjoy, and a post to solemnly acknowledge one of our most staple diets: bread!

Gina

Blogging about your 'little-sister' seems to be a thing, or maybe that's just me... So it was with sadness that I realised- I don't have a little sister to take pictures of, or write about.

I may however, have the next best thing: a sister who is one minute older than me! Eh? Not many people can say that. She may not be cute and smile with teeth missing, wear bows or pretty dresses or dungarees, but she is pretty amazing. She and I have exactly the same sense of humour for a start, and as a consuquence...we laugh. Alot. It's fairly hilarious sometimes, I seem to remember one moment this holiday revising where we had to go into separate rooms, stick our heads out of windows and scream to get the hysterics fully and completely out of our tickled systems! Yup- It's a blast. But obviously we have arguments... Haha, it sounds a bit like I'm advertising...immagine selling twins on ebay: Yes, their full range is from 'minor tiffs' to full scale war; involving the throwing of pens and, yes get this, the breaking of locks! (the bathroom door has never been the same.) Hah... If I were advertising Gina I'm sure people would think I was selling the angel gabriel or something! Well, not if I told them about the way she has this 'thing' against mayonaise, has to sleep with the blinds open, and always takes the laptop first! But if I was truthful, and divulged how well she can play the guitar, piano, tennis, loves a bit of mischief, is always willing to cook extra gluten free pasta, will never say no to tying my hair in a plait, enjoys making up songs with me, meals, works of creative-genius! I'm sure they'd buy her in a heartbeat. And she is all of those things, and much much more.



Sky

It's big. It's blue. It's changing. It's constant. It's an expanse mankind will never conquer. When you lie beneath it you feel small, you feel swallowed, you're never quite as humble as in that moment. It reminds me of God. It shouts his name.

"The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies show the work of his hands..."

Psalm 19 vs 1

The Lamb

It was a beautiful morning to start with. The first morning of the Easter holidays. It was the kind of morning where you pull away the curtains and it's blue and gold outside, the shillouettes of black birds darting between the colours and swooping onto the rooves above. I took my camera and walked to the sheep fields- the lambs were out and they made the perfect subject for my latest Photography topic.

I snapped my last shot and walked away from the bleating ewes, fairly satisfied with the results, fairly happy to leave it at that. But on leaving I practically walked over a small lamb, trapped between rocks and stinging nettles, lying motionless in the mud. I could try and explain to you what I felt, but honestly, it's all starting to blur. I remember staring at it's feeble, gut wrenching efforts to free itself, confused and shouldering a feeling of helplessness. I know the lamb never made a sound. A human urge to help drove me forward as I surveyed it's dirty, weak body- it must have been there for a long long time already... with my own heart beating a little faster, I stroked its back, a faint blue N just visible beneath the dirt, and I could feel the desparate, drumming blood beating faintly through it's chest. I picked it up. The bones were scarily evident through the short curls of white and muddied fur. I lifted it up out of the rocks and freed it from the nettles, and arranged it on the grass instead. I went and got some milk and attempted to feed it. Despite my best efforts, somewhere in the process, the lamb with the N on it's back died.

It was a... strange experience. Not one I've ever had before. I felt so responsible for that life. I tried to help it, but in the end I may have killed it out of sheer fear. Maybe it's neck was already broken. I'm not sure. All I know is that I felt, and still feel, sorrow for that innocent lamb that ended before it truly began. It's sort of silly, crying over a lamb. They're killed all the time. In Old Testament times they were sacraficed daily. We eat them today! But they're such a symbol or innocence, a standard of something good, that it hurt to watch that struggle to survive. It reminded me of another lamb, the ulitmate lamb, the Lamb of God. While the small baby sheep I encountered today died no doubt because of an accident, the Lamb I believe in died on purpose. This Lamb was the ultimate sacrafice, he died so we don't have to, his innocence exchanged for our corrupted sin, evil and muddied experience. Easters almost here. The lamb reminded me of my saviour... and perhaps for that reason, it didn't die in vain.