Some day, I plan to make this whole recipe + book thing more of a priority—not because anyone reads it. Actually according to my blog analytics, these posts average about three readers a month, but I know that if I continue to make space for it, I’ll be making space for two simple joys that are essential to my happiness. These baking and book posts are more for me than anyone else, anyway; that’s why they tend to be long-winded and disjointed.
A year into this blog and I’m still wandering around and exploring the corners of it trying to understand what it’s about, who it’s for, and what it’s meant to be. You may have noticed that I haven’t been writing much lately; that’s because I have said all I’ve needed to say for now. I can only write when I’m feeling something so intensely that I feel my heart may explode from the weight of it. Facebook keeps sending me notifications that my followers haven’t heard from me in a while and occasionally, I feel the guilt that comes with having nothing to say. As a writer, the written word has a push-and-pull effect on me; I gravitate toward it again and again, always coming back to work out what’s rumbling in my heart, and yet, more often than not, I avoid it at all costs for fear that I won’t be able to put the rumble into words. If you ever want the motivation to clean your house, organize your closet, or gather your documents for next year’s tax appointment, I highly recommend trying to be a writer. But if I don’t have a message that’s meant for your heart, I refuse to be another meaningless voice in your already-noisy world that screams much too loudly for your attention. So please, if you don’t like apple pie or reading, this is your stop. We’ll meet again soon. For the rest of you (all three of you, hey Mom!), read on for an easy apple pie recipe and a book that I highly, highly recommend!
The Recipe
Fall has officially slipped in the way that it always does—discreetly and much too soon. If you were like me, you were so wrapped up in summer, that you didn’t even notice that fall was well on its way until Starbucks started spamming your email that the Pumpkin Spice Latte was back (in our defense, they’ve started to bring that latte back in like, July). I love everything about autumn, though I have never, ever had the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Like most girls, I live for cozy sweaters, autumn-scented candles, football Sundays, the return of fall TV, boots and comfort food (bonus if it’s made in the CrockPot!). Because I’m a food editor, I’ve actually been planning for fall baking and comfort food season for months–which is partly why the actual season snuck up on me.
But even more than the Patagonia vests and return of Scandal, I love the way priorities, routines and expectations shift with the season. Spring and summer tend to trigger an anxiousness and sense of urgency in my heart. Cramming in as much as I can and checking off as many bucket list items as I can becomes my focal point in those warmer seasons. When fall arrives, it arrives with a much-needed message: slow down, settle in, you’ve done what you could, leave behind the should’s and coulds, and let’s decide what comes next.
That’s where this apple pie comes in. It was five o’clock in the morning on Thursday and my head was spinning with could have’s, should have’s, if only’s, and what if’s. I had two choices: head to the gym and work it out or head to the kitchen and bake a pie. I have zero regrets. I inherited a love for baking from both of my grandmas, but I also love it because it grounds me. When I bake, I’m forced to pay attention to what I’m doing—mixing, measuring or rolling out dough—and my thoughts are fixated on each step of the recipe which ultimately, anchors me to the present moment that I’m in. It’s a sweet, sweet therapy.
And is it really even fall if you don’t bake an apple pie?
Click here for the recipe.
The Book
I’ve spent the last month devouring Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. You may remember her from when I reviewed her book Present Over Perfect. Cold Tangerines is one of her earlier works and is full of irresistibly authentic stories about her encounters with God. What I love most about this book is that the stories are all made up of little moments when Shauna has accidentally and sometimes, reluctantly stumbled into God. As Shauna points out, we tend to glorify and celebrate the moments when God shows up big; answered prayers, miracles, life-changing stories. We become so focused on epic, grand and momentous, that we tune out the quiet, simple heart of God. Cold Tangerines is a collection of stories where God can be found in the ordinary, day-to-day routine. In traffic. On the treadmill. Holding the door open for the person behind you. In line at Starbucks.
The way that Shauna Niequist experiences and encounters God through seemingly ordinary moments is the way that I want to experience Him. Throughout September, I read a chapter or two a day and I’m finding that as I saturate my head and heart with words like these, I’m creating an awareness and space to recognize that God waits quietly in the waiting rooms, in the lines, in the traffic jams, in the last mile on the treadmill just as much as He waits to be found in the last-minute miracles and sudden surprises. He shows up in the smiles of stranger, the laughter of children, the puppy kisses, the unexpected thunderstorms, little bookstores, tulips and ice cream trucks just as much as He shows up on mountaintops, in sunsets, promotions, weddings and delivery rooms.
After reading this book, I’ve taken a step back and recognized an unsettledness that’s been squeezing the joy out of my heart lately. You know when you pray the same prayer over and over again, that it feels like a speech you’ve rehearsed and you’re not even expecting an answer anymore? That’s where I am. I’ve been anxiously peering around the corner looking for God to show up in one big answered prayer, that I’ve stopped experiencing Him in the day to day. It’s left me feeling a little unsure, a little lost and a little hopeless lately. This book felt like an anchor to an un-anchored heart. If you pick up this book, I can promise that your perspective on the ordinary will shift and it needs to, because life is full of more ordinary moments than extraordinary and if you could find the beauty in that, life gets so much better.
Quotes I Loved
“I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing out loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift.”
“Celebration when your plan is working? Anyone can do that. But when you realize that the story of your life could be told a thousand different ways, that you could tell it over and over as a tragedy, but you choose to call it an epic, that’s when you start to learn what celebration is. When what you see in front of you is so far outside of what you dreamed, but you have the belief, the boldness, the courage to call it beautiful instead of calling it wrong, that’s celebration.”
“Friendship is acting out God’s love for people in tangible ways. We were made to represent the love of God in each other’s lives, so that each person we walk through life with has a more profound sense of God’s love for them. Friendship is an opportunity to act on God’s behalf in the lives of the people that we’re close to, reminding each other who God is.”
“I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin. And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.”
“John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat. The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies. But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.”