Restorative Simplicity & Chocolate Chip Cookies
I'll start right out by saying this: I'm not a food blogger. I don't really intend to be. But I am going to share with you my Signature Chocolate Chip Cookies [that are dairy/egg/soy/nut-free!] and I'm going to do that right now. No pretty pictures in progress. An okay picture of them on a plate in my house. There's a story, too, and I'm going to share that - but if you're just here for the cookies: here they are. Enjoy!
There's a simplicity in a chocolate chip cookie.
It's simple but it's rich, speckled with chocolate but with a basic cookie base.
In my opinion. you really can't go wrong with it.
There's something restorative about them.
I often crave chocolate chip cookies when life feels out of control. When there's a lot going on that I can't seem to get a grasp on.
I think they ground me, almost. Like an anchor, a reminder of simple times. I'm not a baker but they're not hard to make and so the simple act of starting and finishing the task of assembling the dough and putting it in and out of the oven give me a feeling of accomplishment. So yesterday, when the whole day felt a mess and I paused at night to make cookies... I thoguht to myself, "At least I finished one of the things I started today!"
Baking and eating chocolate chip cookies does that for me. It calms and quiets my soul.
Not much different from the calm and quiet my soul is fighting for right now.
In the midst of a whirlwind of information and news sources and predictions and social distancing and fears of sickness and rumors of positive tests all around me... it's noisy out there.
But also, I'm not engaging with my "normal" life in many ways - I'm not going to Target just to kill time or escaping to the playground instead of addressing the hard behaviors at home. I'm not filling the corners of my free time with meetings and hang outs with friends or trips to the store.
I can't. It's all closed down.
My normal life noise is quieting.
There's a part of me that hates it - the quieting. It forces me to notice what's going on behind all the noise and why I allow the noise to build up anyway. And I'm an extrovert - I love being with people, too - so it can feel draining, just staying at home. I'm sad to be missing things and worried about all the implications of this virus. I worry about those who might get sick, and even more so for the global loss of so many. When it's quiet and I can't distract myself, I have to face that stuff. And I don't want to. Because it's hard. And I want to retreat.
But wow, is it good... this quieting.
Even my phone gets boring after a while as I realize that what's being stripped away is being stripped away for my good. I have been going on walks and noticing that people aren't on their phones, they're not distracted by technology. People are looking up and out and around. They're appreciating the spring blooms and laughing with their kids and feeling the breeze on their faces. There's a refocus on the little things of life that often get overlooked in the pace that we keep.
I'm realizing as the days go by that while I long for the playgrounds and the play dates and the hugs from family and friends, I also am growing more comfortable with the restorative simplicity I'm experiencing as the noise is being forced to be quieted.
What I know to be true? God loves me. God's with me. And I want others to know that (for themselves), too.
The simplest things can be what means the most.
Not boring. Simple.
Like a chocolate chip cookie.
My friends, I don't know where this social distancing leaves you. I don't know the challenges it is bringing up and the hard things you're facing. I don't know if you're in the medical field or if you're mourning the loss of your school year. I don't know if you're wondering how in the world you'll work from home or if you live alone and you feel as though you'll waste away.
But what I do know is this - we're all experiencing a forced quiet. What's the noise you usually run to that distracts you from the hard parts of life? What about this distancing, this virus, makes you truly uncomfortable?
Your fears. Your need. Your loneliness. Your despair. Your illness. Your overwhelm. Your joys. I promise, you can take that to Someone who cares. Who hears and who knows and who weeps with you. Who holds tears in jars and who steadies the waves. Who promises that good will come in the end and that His kingdom endures for eternity. He entered the noise so that we may experience the quiet.
This is grace. Restorative. Comforting. Hard. But purposeful.
May you bake some cookies today and rest in the grace that He has in the simplest (and yet complex) way. God loves you. Rest in Him.
