When All You Want is Perfect Pancakes (and Maybe a Perfect Life): Behind the Scenes

August 7, 2013September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. Brackett3 Comments

I was supposed to make grits casserole. (Which is this amazingly delicious way to eat grits and has been known to win over even the most cynical of skeptics and really it deserves a shout out on the recipe page.) But someone had eaten all the cheese. Maybe it was Amelia during snack time or Joshua for lunch or maybe I just overestimated what could be done with one 16 oz block of cheddar in a few days. Either way, I had to toss that plan and since I’d promised my husband a hot breakfast before he left for work, pancakes seemed like an easy out.

Except that lately my go-to recipe is Pioneer Woman’s sour cream pancakes. Guess what?

Yeah, there’s no sour cream either.

So, I didn’t figure this was really a problem, I would just make the old standby that my mother whipped out in fluffy stacks by the dozen on Saturday mornings up until recently when she traded her spatula for a spork and the Appalachian Trail.

Buttermilk pancakes, no problem.

Also, no recipe. Mama doesn’t write things down; she just cooks and then shrugs and says, “You know, it’s like biscuits but not exactly.”

Not exactly is the point. I know where I went wrong. I overestimated the flour and while it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world, for some reason yesterday, when all I wanted to do was be able to make a simple batch of perfect pancakes, it was the end of the world. Maybe I should back up and admit that I was crying before I even started this process, and when my confused husband wondered what in the world I could be so upset about at 6:45 a.m. before the children were even awake, all I had was tears and fumbling explanations about email and being tired and how I just wanted something to turn out right. For some reason, the past week had just been hard. No reason, really. Just one of those dips into the valley of despair that colored everything gray with frustration.

He ate those thick and chewy opposite of light and fluffy pancakes anyway. He kissed me goodbye and urged me to have a good day. I dumped the rest of the disaster in the trash and started over.

With a recipe for Farmhouse Pancakes I found on a quick Pinterest search.

This time I followed directions. I didn’t second-guess or substitute or waver. I simply did what I was told and earned the promised result: the perfect pancakes I was aiming for all along.

I know I treat my life like that failed batch of pancakes sometimes. I want to just be able to dump all the mess-ups in the trash and start over with a clear and easy set of directions that fulfill my longing for perfection.

But there’s no simple recipe to follow that will guarantee me a life free from all the stress and fatigue that makes me imperfect.

If there was, there would be no need for grace. No need for unconditional love. No need for forgiveness.

I’d love to tell you that I cried a little more, prayed a little harder, and spent the rest of the day thankful for my revelation. The truth is I loaded them up and took them waterfall hiking on a nearby paved trail because I needed to walk away from the mess of the house and the press of those four walls.

I’m sure people thought we were sweet. There were probably some who thought I was either brave or crazy for bringing them here by myself. But the truth behind this picture is it reminds me that even when I follow directions, the promised result can take a lifetime to achieve.

After all, that glorious waterfall’s still pressing on trying to find its way.

I might make perfect pancakes tomorrow, but a perfect life?

I’m learning that there’s no such thing as a perfect life. Really, the perfect life has a lot of imperfect moments framed with a whole lot of grace.

Linking up with the Behind the Scenes community over at Crystal Stine’s today. Check it out and be inspired to tell the truth behind the picture.

linkups · Margin Mom · summer

When Overwhelmed, Just Jump in the Lake {My Search for Margin: Part 6}

August 5, 2013September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. BrackettLeave a comment

It was just for a few hours, but it felt like more. The water was cold, but the day was hot and the sun was glorious. Waves rocked that old dock and the best way to the water will always be a flying leap.

We loaded down that speed boat with children and lifejackets and squeals of summer. Always, on the water, wind and sun in my face and white churned waves underfoot, can I find my space.

Now I just have to keep that feeling of lightness tucked away for those margin-less days when all I want to do is jump in the lake.

For all my other posts in this possibly never-ending series on how I’m aiming for more white space and less smudges in my life, click here.

I love what Kayse says about how she feels less overwhelmed when she’s said yes to the many things God’s called her to, rather than yes to the many things she thinks she’s supposed to do. I’m mulling over that idea for fall when I have so many tasks on my plate that, truly, have all come to me at this time for this purpose.

Linking up with these lovely ladies…

joshua · linkups · living local · marriage

Ziplining at Sunburst Stables {Behind the Scenes}

July 30, 2013September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. Brackett4 Comments

Last week, just before our anniversary trip, he got the report from his doctor that his heart had returned to normal function and he could begin conditioning himself back to activities more strenuous than solitaire and Candy Crush.

Apparently, that’s what he’d been waiting to hear because he’d saved his birthday money and when I asked him what all he wanted to do while we were hiding away in a little cabin on Blueberry Hill and playing tourist barely twenty miles from home, he decided on ziplining.

Really?

No, it doesn’t require any great athletic skill, and no it’s really not that strenuous, but ziplining? I’ve seen the pictures and a few videos and while the concept was intriguing, the actual idea of hanging on for dear life to a cable and a harness while brushing by trees and then having the ground rush up to meet you in a sudden stop was not on my list of anniversary activities.

I mean, seriously, I figured he’d still be recovering and we’d paint pottery because it’s a nice, quiet activity.

Ha. Instead, he took me over to Sunburst Stables, which is North Georgia’s premier place for ziplining. Seven zips, several 1000 feet long or more, one through a cave and 200 feet of darkness, all located in the woods and hill top pastures of a local family’s farm. We could have ridden horses instead. They’d have even packed a lunch for us. But no, zipping it was.

I was terrified. Not in a “there’s no way I’m doing this” way, but more in a “I can’t believe we’re both doing this and there’s four children at home waiting on us to come back.”

Sometimes life is scarier when you have kids.

Our guides were great. They were young college guys who boasted confidence and humor and assured us and the father/son duo with us, that the cables were designed to hold 14,000 pounds and weren’t going anywhere. They told us Sunburst has never had an injury, that the youngest zipliner ever was not quite 2 and the oldest was 92. They explained how to slow down (yeah, like I was going to touch that wire for anything) and they explained how they control the stop, so there’s no way to miss it.

All that I was still jumpy.

We opened with a short zip. Okay, got my bearings on how this is going to go. The next line was twice as long as the first and I think I kept my eyes closed the whole time. At any rate, I don’t remember much. But at the third line we were joined by the photographer, who happens to be the family’s oldest son, and his younger sister, who happens to be attending school in the fall with my girls.

It took a five year old to put me at ease.

She was funny, answering questions about how she likes to zip, and telling us how she can’t go on the cave line alone because she doesn’t weigh enough (not a problem I have for sure). She was teasing and being silly with the guides like they were another pair of brothers, and on our fourth zip, she informed me it was my turn to go first and I better get up there. (I’d been waiting until last each time.)

It was like having one of my daughters there, and I know they’d have been doing the same thing. Youth knows no fear and my girls would have all but pushed me off that platform if they’d sensed mine.

By the fifth and sixth runs, I was watching the scenery speed by and appreciating the beauty of where we live and call home in a whole new way.

But honestly, I didn’t realize that I had been enjoying myself until I saw the pictures.

Apparently I’d been smiling.

The last zip was over a lake with a fountain and you go with a partner and the likelihood that one of you will get wet. I left that to my husband because after all, this was his idea.

Definitely one of his better ones.

For more information on Sunburst Stables and all their great activities for families, couples, and anyone looking for an adventure in North Georgia, click here.

Linking up with the Behind the Scenes community over at Crystal Stine’s today. Check it out and be inspired to tell the truth behind the picture.

linkups · Margin Mom · motherhood

On Being Intentional {My Search for Margin: Part 5}

July 29, 2013September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. Brackett3 Comments

For all my other posts in this possibly never-ending series on how I’m aiming for more white space and less smudges in my life, click here.

I have the best intentions. I really do. I love a list. A plan. A box that can be neatly checked off or better yet a strong black line through a finished task.

It’s just that I’m really so very bad at finishing.

I’m great at starting. Enthusiasm, energy, get ‘er done and all that. It’s why the start of a new school year was always my favorite time to be a teacher. It’s new, exciting, so many possibilities.

Kind of like my head full of blog and novel and ebook ideas that aren’t going anywhere because I can get started, but I can’t seem to get finished.

I like to blame all this on lack of time. Except I know incredibly successful bloggers and writers who also work full-time jobs or have more kids than I.

So then I like to blame my unfinished tasks on principles. As in, I’m investing in my kids right now so I don’t really have time to invest in anything else.

Yeah, that would work if I believed it. Truth is, I am investing in my kids and in being there and available to them. But I also quit a job that gave us another income and health insurance so that I could pursue the hearts of my children and the heart of my scariest God-sized dreams.

So, I’ve begun making one small change to how I approach my issue with time since that’s my go-to excuse.

It’s not about how much time I have; it’s about how I choose to spend it.

Time’s a currency. I can choose to spend it wisely on something that will set me up and get me ahead and make me feel that I have accomplished more in my day than just sweeping the floor ten times before dinner. Or I can choose to spend it on something that will give me a few fleeting moments of pleasure but leave me frustrated and guilty in the end.

So for the past couple of weeks, when I sit down to write, I have begun treating it like work. I make a list of what I need to accomplish and I finish it. Or I at least try really hard and make myself be intentional about trying to finish.

A couple Saturdays ago, Joshua stayed home and supervised room cleaning and I went to the library and worked intently for two solid hours. I actually set the alarm on my phone and allotted myself a set amount of time to finish my different tasks from compiling the posts I want to turn into an ebook on Embracing Motherhood to breaking down the play I’m directing this Christmas by scenes and characters. I felt so much better when I left simply because I had paid attention and been intentional about using my time wisely. I had finished what I had started.

So that’s my (not so) new revelation: to be conscious of the time I have available and to be intentional about what I want to use it for.

After all, nap time can be about more than folding another load of laundry.

Linking up with these lovely ladies. Check it out.

cooking · http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · linkups · perfectly imperfect

Behind the Scenes with Blackberry Jam

July 23, 2013September 30, 2015 Lindsey P. Brackett5 Comments

yeah, so don’t let those pretty little jars fool you.

I did indeed make homemade blackberry jam yesterday. A labor of love for my husband. Seedless and old-fashioned canned and everything.

I also nearly burned the house down and have a blister the size of a dime on the base of my thumb to prove it. Because when you use a pot that is too small for 4 cups of prepared blackberries and 8 cups of sugar and one box of pectin AND a 1/4 of lemon juice and then you bring it to a “gentle rolling boil”, well, let’s just say it doesn’t stay gentle for long.

That pot of jam boiled all over my stove top and my hardwood floor and my kitchen cabinets. It scorched dishtowels and the innocent simmering green beans and my thumb when I tried to stop the bursting black mess on the burner by swiping at it with a sopping towel. (i know, i know, not my smartest move.) Finally a big cup of water and the box of baking soda kept that mess in check. In the meantime, the smoke alarm was going off (nice to know it works!) and my seven year old was hiding on the porch with the little ones.

Not my finest Pinterest moment.

But as I camped out by the sink with my hand under cold water and surveyed the damage, I managed a little survey of myself also. You see, I’m impulsive with recipes and directions. I don’t always read from beginning to end and I’m notorious (at least to my husband) for substituting ingredients because I didn’t check before I started to make sure I had what I need.

And in the case of the jam, I had an inkling (okay, a warning) that this would happen. You see, I had to bring the fruit and pectin to boil before I added the sugar. Which I did. And I noticed then that the pot wasn’t quite big enough. But I forged ahead because who wants two pots to wash when I can make do with one?

Or rather, who wants to wash two pots instead of the floor, the counter, the sink, the dishtowels, and the stove top?

I don’t think my stove will ever be the same. But then again, I might not either. I think I’ve learned a lesson the big-burning-blister hard way:

sometimes it’s better to slow down and actually follow directions if you don’t want to end up with a sticky mess.

And yes, I finished making that stupid jam. It might not set correctly. I think I false sealed a few lids. Oh, well. I’ll just make a batch of biscuits and it will all be gone in a week anyway.

Linking up with Crystal for the first time today!