What’s your definition of luxury? Leave it in the comment box.
Just like yesterday’s post, this one is an encore performance. Why? Because I need to work on page proofs of The Caregiver’s Notebook instead of testing new recipes and blogging about the results. And since the rhubarb in our little patch is almost ready to pick…and maybe at your house, too…here’s the recipe for strawberry-rhubarb pie that first appeared on this website in July of 2009.
Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie
Filling:
2 cups sliced strawberries
2 cups sliced rhubarb
2 tablespoons Minute Tapioca
Topping:
1/4 cup softened butter
3/4 – 1 cup brown sugar (depending on your taste)
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup oatmeal
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Combine filling ingredients and pour into an unbaked, 9” pie shell. Combine topping ingredients and sprinkle on top of fruit mixture. Bake for 15 minute at 425, then turn heat to 400 and bake for 30-45 minutes more, until fruit is bubbly.
To make strawberry-rhubarb crisp, heat oven to 350 degrees. Omit the pie shell and put fruit mixture in a 9 x 9 Pyrex baking dish. Sprinkle on the topping and bake for 30-45 minutes. I usually double the recipe and bake it in a 9 x 13 Pyrex baking dish.
If you want more pie recipes, you can download the Philo Family Favorite Pie Recipes. Enjoy!
So we have the prophetic word made more sure,
to which you do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place,
until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your hearts.
2 Peter 1:19
Waiting. I’m not very good at it, as the slow retreat of the winter of 2014 made very clear. Much as I wanted spring to come, nothing could be done but to wait for the snow to melt, the grass to green, the temperatures to rise, the trees to bud, and the flowers to bloom.
So wait I did. Impatiently. Eagerly. Quivering with anticipation for the daffodils to spread their sunshine, for the lilacs to release their fragrance, and for the fawns to creep out, knock-kneed and wonderful, from the underbrush. I waited and waited, all the while asking, “What’s taking so long?”
Now, the wait is over. Each day new sign of the changing seasons creates more joy and gratitude in me than they ever did after easy winters. Everyday, I cherish the beauty of spring, I delight in it more than in the years where the cold was so fleeting there was barely time to anticipate better days to come.
During the cold weeks of March that dragged into April, while waiting for spring and Easter to arrive, my thoughts turned often to those who loved Jesus and witnessed his death on a cross. His followers knew plenty about waiting. After his death, they waited without hope. After his ascension, they waited for the promised power of the Holy Spirit to descend. After Pentacost, they waited for Christ to come in glory and fulfill the promises foretold in Scripture.
For that great and glorious day, we still wait. Impatiently. Eagerly. Quivering with anticipation for Jesus to spread Sonshine over this fallen world, for the fragrance of Christ to be released, and for a new creation to emerge and fill us with wonder. We wait, and we wait, asking over and over and over again, “Lord, what’s taking so long?” But he doesn’t answer.
Or perhaps he does. Perhaps his answer comes, bit by bit, with each day of this long awaited spring. With each cardinal song made more precious by long months of silence. With each ray of dawning light that pierces the darkness a little earlier each morning. With each tulip colored brighter by our hunger for beauty. With each caress of a soft breeze on cheeks once frozen by cold.
Perhaps he is saying that, just as we count a spring slow in coming most precious, so the future return of Christ grows infinitely more valuable through long waiting. Perhaps he is saying that the longer we wait for the glorious day of Christ’s return to dawn, the brighter it will shine. The greater will be our joy. The happier will be our tears. The longer we will dance. And the louder we will sing when the morning star arises forever and for always in our hearts.
“Why do you seek the living One among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen.
Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee,
saying that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men,
and be crucified, and the third day rise again.”
And they remembered His words…
Luke 24:6–8
Cold. The Winter of 2014 was cold. So long it seemed unending. Hard on people cooped up at home, curtains drawn to block the cold, and in the process blocking out the light as well. In many ways, the winter just passed resembled a cold, dark tomb. Dead and lifeless. Devoid of light.
Even so, I had hope that it would end.
How long? I wondered with eyes searching the landscape for signs of spring. How long will this go on? How much longer will we wait for warmer days filled with light?
As winter’s icy fingers stretched far beyond Ash Wednesday and deep into Lent, my thoughts turned toward the men and women who ministered to Jesus’ body, buried Him, and watched the authorities seal the tomb. Though Jesus had prophesied His death and resurrection, His followers didn’t understand. Therefore, they weren’t waiting for Him to rise from the dead. They were mourning a loss they thought was permanent.
They were without hope.
They didn’t ask, How long until He comes back to life? They asked, How will we live the rest of our days without Him?
Those questions consumed the thoughts of the women who visited the tomb at dawn on the first day of the week. No wonder they were terrified when they saw the stone rolled away. No wonder they bowed low before the two men in dazzling white who asked, Why do you seek the living One among the dead? No wonder they were speechless as they comprehended His prophetic words: The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.
No wonder they began to hope again.
They didn’t say, How can this be? for the Word of Christ, the Word who is Christ resonated in their hearts.
The light of truth flooded the empty tomb. The winter in their souls relinquished its icy hold. New life stirred their hearts and still stirs the hearts of all Christ’s followers: He is who He says He is. He is who our hearts know He is. He is the God who has power over life and death!
Their hope, and ours, is everlasting and eternal.
So this Easter season of new life and light and springtime, we join the saints from throughout the ages and proclaim the joyful truth: Our God lives! Christ is risen! Alleluia!
