one last recipe

I’ve always wanted to be like Enoch from Genesis 5 . . . and walk with God until one day I just am not (on earth) anymore. Ironically, I find it really hard to just walk away from the online presences that reach out of glossy screens to beckon my heart. It would seem like the simplest thing in the world to just not log in anymore, but there are so many attachments and entanglements and complications . . .

There are humans I fell in love with on the West Coast with teeth that don’t fall out any more and beautiful, feminine makeup hustles and engagements I am waiting for with bated breath.

There are people I have never met in real life with little brown toddlers sitting on counters next to raw cacao and collagen and protein powders.

There are waves I’ve watched ridden by surfers since their ‘rookie’ years on tour and there are even supercute photos of my nephews.

And I want to keep up.

I want to pop in at the party.

I want to feel inspired.

I want to feel included and connected.

. . . and. At the same time I have this glorious invitation to live with Eternity instead of online. I have this Maker who wants more of my heart than I am inclined to give Him when my head is hunched and my spine curves downward and my eyes are glued to my phone as I scroll.

This is not about my online habits being or feeling unhealthy . . . I don’t  believe they are. But that hardly feels like the point anymore.

I’ve been feeling for a while like there’s something else or more I could be putting my focus and creative energy towards. It takes faith to walk away without seeing what will replace this . . . especially as I still have hopes and intentions of influencing through music . . .

In following other artists and mothers and christians and makers of things over the years, I’ve seen blogs bloom in notoriety and opportunity,  and I’ve seen (some of the same ones) let domains expire and gather dust in the crevices of the world wide web.

I think some of us are definitely called to The Internet as a platform. But the more moments pass, the less I believe I am one of them . . . anymore. I sense that me being online and writing through college and grief and singleness and adventure has accomplished what it was meant to, and that maybe it’s time to focus more fully on beholding God and blessing who He puts in front of me . . . it’s time to really see what becomes of me when I’m not editing my insides to something that feels bloggable and tame in the moment.

And this is just a whisper, but I recognize His Voice. It’s a gentle and entirely open invitation to see what my life can be like if I walk away from what I’ve come to know and the identity I’ve curated through posts and pictures. It’s a challenge to find out if I’ll still value my own thoughts if I’m the only who knows what they are. It’s a beckoning to close my eyes and lay down the pen that writes the play by play of how He is continually changing me.

My precious and highly prized domain is up for renewal and it feels like a crossroads. It feels risky and unnecessarily dramatic. ha. But sometimes you can’t get to the next thing without the willingness to let the known go – however trivial a thing it may seem to be. And for my Type A // ISTJ self, that looks like a definite ending.

. . . a retirement, if you will . . . closure.

I have invested in this space for the past four years. And I’ve been blogging  on various elsewheres for the last nine. I have blogged and tweeted and instagrammed my twenties and I think the next decade will be better approached and more thoroughly enjoyed unposted.

As a blogger and online contributor, I have lived in the tension of feeling beholden to people I don’t know; of wanting to explain what doesn’t require explanation; of wanting to be consistent, but needing to change. So I have settled on this personal transition as being worthy of a courtesy and a thank you.

Thank y’all so much for reading my humble, sometimes rambling smörgåsblog . . . for commenting, for encouraging and connecting with me. It’s been a pleasure scrolling with you.

. . . & & // b.



double chocolate sunbutter cookies!

Waayyy back in the day, my baby sister Sav introduced me to Rubyellen Bratcher. Back when I was still an undergraduate at UNC . . . back before I had ever experienced the glorious, sun-drenched California sky for myself.

One of the first posts that I remember reading from her was a recipe for sunflower butter chocolate chip cookies. I was all about the simplicity of the recipe and the aesthetic of Rubyellen’s post.

This weekend I had my cousins over to catch up a little bit and do some baking. I had in mind to bake some almond butter cookies, but found myself more attracted to the price tag of the sunflower butter. I’d tried it before and found it to be a bit strong for my taste, but figured I’d give it another go.

I ended up eyeballing everything since I’m still in the process of curating homegoods, but I made a few tweaks to Rubyellen’s recipe and was pleasantly surprised by the richness of these cookies and the way the flavors really blended together . . .

1 c sunflower butter + 2 eggs + 1 tsp almond extract + 1/2 c brown sugar
+ 1 tbsp cocoa powder + chocolate chips
bake for 13-16 min at 350°F
be sure to check // stick a fork after 13 mins . . .
the tops were kinda glossy which makes them look undone to the naked eye.

aloha, friends!
XO


. . . moving forward the domain will revert back to folkbird.wordpress.com . . . i’ll no longer be paying to have ads removed from this space, and i won’t have any control over (or proceeds from) the ads that appear here . . .

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2 Comments

  1. Well, no more posts for now…😐😕😟…sad. I think you have been a blessing to your online people. But, looking onward, looking forward to your first eBook maybe? 😳😉 Whatever you decide, be happy. Be you. I love you. God bless your endeavors!

    Liked by 1 person

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