This is one of our favorite Easter activities! The kids and I do it every year and it has become a favorite tradition!
Here’s what you’ll need:1. 1-2 cans of crescent rolls2. 8 large marshmallows3. water4. cinnamon and sugar mixed in a bowl Here’s a simple explanation of it works (taken from yummyhealthyeasy.com)
First, gather the kids together (or your significant other, grandparents, aunts, uncle, whoever). Get your ingredients out and preheat the oven to 325(or whatever is recommended on the can). Read John 19 in the New Testament while the oven is pre-heating.
Unroll the crescent rolls, separating each section. Explain that this is like the cloth they wrapped Jesus in.
Give your child a marshmallow and explain that it represents Jesus. It’s white and pure because He was without sin.
Roll the marshmallow in a small bowl of water. This symbolizes the embalming oils.
Now, roll the marshmallow in the cinnamon & sugar mixture. This is like the spices used to prepare his body for burial.
Next up, wrap the marshmallow in the crescent roll dough, making sure to pinch the dough together securely on the sides. Don’t worry about what they look like because they’ll taste great no matter what! This represents how they wrapped Jesus’ body.
Repeat with each marshmallow and place the rolls in the oven (symbolizing the tomb) and bake for the amount of time specified on the package – 8 to 10 minutes.
While the rolls are baking, read John 20:1-18.
When the cook time is up, open the tomb and remove the rolls. When they’re cool enough to handle, let your child(ren) open one and discover what happened to the marshmallow. It’s disappeared! This signifies how Jesus has been resurrected.
This recipe is SO easy and fun! Your kiddos will absolutely love it!
There is a point during winter at which everything[for me, at least] feels heavy. The seeming permanence of the season weighs me down as the snow[though beautiful] continues to fall with no promise–or even glimpse–of any sign of Spring. Life in rural Vermont promises nothing less though, and I do at least appreciate its direct–though sometimes painfully blunt–nature. This is something I’ve grown to love during our time here–the consistency and resilience of the culture seeps into your soul before you have time to do anything but appreciate it.
And yet…
The days are long, cold and sometimes very[and quite literally] gray. This proves especially difficult for a highly introverted mama with tiny people who have no full way of expending energy. We have to embrace the bitterly cold days however , bundling up to spend at least some time outside, crafting, having tea time, telling stories, building tents, etc. I am endlessly grateful for our sizable, partially finished basement–perfect for racing cars, running, dancing, gymnastics, etc. These things are my saving grace on long days when I can’t seem to catch a break and my spirit feels grumpy.
Coming to Vermont I knew this weather would impact me as an INFP prone to seasonal depression. But right now this weight feels heavier than ever. The potential causes for this are numerous–depending on the day, my attitude, my expectations, etc. But mostly, I think, I’ve been discouraged because of the looming cultural darkness I’ve observed all around me. Sometimes it helps to step away from news/media/etc. and just breathe. I hope for better things. I pray for mercy, but ultimately I cannot ignore the reality that things may not get better here on earth. This is the result of living in a fallen world.
Today while sharing a beloved book(my favorite in the series) with my eldest, my heart found words which spoke into my heaviness pristinely.
The sailors on the Dawn Treader have sailed treacherous seas in search of lost lords, stumbling upon enchanted islands bearing witness to giants, monopods, treasure, dragons, magical people -and everything in between. Always hopeful at the prospect of finding Aslan’s country. And now–near the end– they find themselves surrounded by a suffocating darkness. This is a darkness uniquely known, yet never before felt, leaving everyone woefully worn and repressed to go on. It seems inescapable.
“Never get out!” he yelled. That’s it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out!
Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting-top and whispered, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now”. The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little–a very, very little–better. “After all, nothing has really happened to us yet, ” she thought.
“Look!” cried Rynelf’s voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and whilethey watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply-edged shadow.
Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong, sweet voice what seemed to be words, though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose and began to fly slowly ahead,bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, Courage, dear heart. And the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s and with the voice a delicious smell in her face.
In a few moments the darkness turned into grayness ahead, and then, almost before they dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Lewis)
Do I wonder why? Do I pray that things will change? Do I worry about the future? YES. But I was reminded that this darkness permeating the world is no news. The fact that people wounded, broken people walk the earth hurting other wounded, broken people is no surprise–not to me, and especially not to the Father.
In the weary winter days, the gloom sometimes leaves me feeling defeated. But my hope is not lost. There is always light, there is always peace. There is always a joy readily available when my gaze is transfixed on the “things above, not the things on earth”.
This week—I saw that light in the form of warmer days. The snow finally started to melt, the sun shone brightly and even though the wind whipped our bodies to and fro as we lingered outside, we could bear it. It was my heart’s personal charge to have courage; to endure. To live in remembrance of the immutable, unfading Light. And I do not take it for granted.
And so whenever these winter days envelop my spirit, feeling unbearably woeful and heavy, I want to look back and remember God’s faithful hand.
He does not leave us in our darkness, but instead pierces through with an unchanging, unshakable hope. We must watch for it. We must wait for it. For it is there all along.
Both of our sweet girls got to go on a special date(separate days) with Daddy this pst month! So thankful for the intentional husband and father that he is!
I have written about dreaming before. Not the sleeping kind. But those desires carefully curated and hidden away in the uttermost depths of the soul. When I was tiny, I thought my dream was to be a dentist. This was quickly foiled upon the discovery that mouths are gross. Then as I grew, I believed(and this was an idea that followed me all through college) that I would be a performer.
I would be on Broadway, or in television. And I would orchestrate my success.
But then things didn’t really unfold that way, and I can remember feeling a little bit lost. I lingered there longer than I should have, pursuing different avenues in the same vein, waiting for something to happen and it just never did. No matter how hard I worked, nothing really happened and –somehow–the dream faded. It didn’t sparkle and shine the way it once had.
One of the redundant lies our culture proclaims is that we must pursue our passion. We hear this in an inspiring biography of someone who “never gave up” or we see it printed on a graphic tee shirt on instagram. Follow Your Dreams. Believe in Yourself. Do What Makes You Happy. While I am not opposed to the idea that we’re all individually driven toward some specific bent or another, I don’t necessarily find these mantras(for lack of a better word) wise.
It was the staunch transcendentalist Thoreau who once said, Our truest life is in dreams awake.
While I don’t align with his particular worldview, I think Mr. Thoreau has a point.
I spent years pursuing dreams that I believed with every fiber of my being. And I don’t regret that. But I do think there is something to be said for considering the heart of the matter. Was my desire to be known? Or to do something for the sake of bringing glory to the One who gave me the desire to do it? Sometimes, I think it was both. But in the end, I saw at my very core that the desire was to fill some void that was never empty in the first place.
Now, as a wife, mama, etc. I wouldn’t say that I’ve stopped being a dreamer. In fact, my INFP personality leaves me full of ideas almost constantly(bless my patient husband).But things look different. Nothing turned out the way I imagined. I’ve realized who holds–and even cultivates–these dream-like longings of my heart. And I see–with every seemingly mundane moment–the beauty in fixing my gaze on the One who authors my wild ideas and quiet ambitions.
For years I used to regret never pushing myself harder, or giving myself space to pursue my passion. But oh, what freedom I found in embracing what I was given! And what a peace in knowing that it was not only the right but very best thing for me. It wasn’t that my dreams died, it was that they didn’t shine nearly as brightly as they once had. The familiar glow that lifted my spirits for so long had lost its place.
That’s because the One who formed me directed my gaze towards the good, pleasing, perfect plan that was mine all along. My heart is finally at rest not in the why, but the who.
redeemingthemundane
In the long days, when I feel my hours have been wasted and left wanting…when I cannot muster the courage to wash another dish, or wipe another countertop…when discipline seems exhausting and consistency wavers in my own feeble spirit, I want to look back here and remember the goodness and grace in fixing my eyes on the One who has held my heart all along. Whoever I am, whatever I do is meaningless if He is not there at the center. Today, whatever your now is, however your heart may grieve over what’s lost or left behind, remember Him. Recall His promises. Remember whose you are, and rest in knowing that these ordinary moments–which may not look as you expected–are not for nothing.
His plan and purpose is far greater than anything you could have imagined. He is good. He is faithful. He will give you grace to carry on; to truly and fully live in dreams awake.
I was reading some of my old thoughts recently and was struck with the harsh reality that I live in a state of ingratitude. This particular stream of words considered the stuff of dreams. What were they? What were mine? What had changed? What had I planned so long ago for myself that was left unaccomplished?
I was living in San Diego, CA at the time, working two jobs while also trying to hack it as a military spouse whose poor, sweet husband was out to sea more often than at home. I loved my work. I loved where we lived. And of course, I loved being married to my best friend. But somehow on this day, I was feeling a little dreary. I had stumbled upon a YouTube channel of some classmates from college(we all graduated with the same BFA in Theatre together) Instantaneously I was both impressed by their successes and[for a moment] disappointed in who I’d turned out to be. Nothing that I had planned for my life had turned out as I imagined. Briefly, I wondered if I had given up or lacked ambition in the first place. I ended up skimming the rest of the page to the very bottom, only noticing these emboldened words, the dream is following Christ.
This week I’ve been pondering what it means to dream. The thing is, I barely recall what I felt that day. I couldn’t have imagined then that the haunting ache of desires that could not be would dissolve. Time is a tincture in that way, I think. Just as they say time heals all wounds, the passage of seasons–of joy and discomfort–has erased entirely my longing for what might have been. It was the famous virologist Jonas Salk who said, “Hope lies in dreams, in imagination and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality”. And while I understand what he meant, I respectfully disagree. I think–at least for now–that dreaming requires perspective, not just a desire to do. If I”m dreaming from a faulty foundation–whose hope lies in what I deem to be the next best thing–then I won’t ever be fulfilled. No matter how hard I imagine, or how courageously I strive to make those dreams happen, my heart will never rest. We can “dare to make the dreams reality” but even then, where are we placing our hope?
Today as I watched my son tinkering with pots and pans, it was as if God graciously reminded me of that awkwardly tall middle school girl who used to wonder if she’d ever be a wife or mommy one day. Because then, it seemed overwhelming to believe that I would ever be noticed by a boy. Or of those days rehearsing through tears because nothing I accomplished seemed good enough. And even of that day, writing alone in my California kitchen–when my heart fell to pieces all over again at the familiar fear that I wasn’t living well. All at once I was lost in the journey so far–of schooling, marriage, moving, mothering–and my heart soared.
The dream is following Christ
Isn’t it interesting that in our formative years we waste so much time wishing the days were better, or more productive or the very best? When, in reality(and this is a theme I continue learning) we should number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom(Psalm 90:12)?
God in his perfect goodness sees those heartfelt desires. He delicately handles the dreams of each season–weeding out the treasure that won’t last, and producing fruit from those inspired by Him.
redeemingthemundane
But in His patience, he doesn’t just throw out what seems right and good in our hearts at the time. Instead, he carefully crafts the dream for our good and His glory. He listens, He loves us faithfully and He continues to point us to the ultimate dream–communion with Himself.
Today, whatever your dream is–surrender it to Christ. He knows your heart, and He desires to do immeasurably more than you could ask or imagine for the sake of His name and His renown. Anything you could dream for yourself pales in comparison to what He can do in and through you. Rest in the truth that the unfading dream lies in following Christ today, tomorrow and forever.
Redeeming the Mundane 