Clever Congregation Department

The ingenuity of our congregation astounds me every so often. Take the recent case of Val Jackson. Val and Nancy are (unfortunately for us) moving to a beautiful place in Washington and have been cleaning up in preparation for the move.

Val brought his somewhat portable camper to the church with a sign "FREE CAMPER".  He found a good home for it and as the transaction ended he asked for a church donation. The gentleman gave $250 which Val donated to St Philip’s to help fix the oven.  Good work Val! I love it when things come together.

Bill DeRouchey

God is Good, Story I:
Eating Healthier

After starting a new health kick, I altered my drive to work to avoid passing St. Philip's favorite doughnut shop. I accidentally drove by the shop the other morning and as I approached, there in the window were a host of goodies. I felt this was no accident, so I prayed....

"Dear God, it's up to you, if you want me to have those luscious baked goods, create a parking place for me directly in front of the doughnut shop."

And sure enough, on the eighth time down Scotts Valley Drive and back, there it was! "God is so Good!"

Signed, Eating Healthier Every Day

Perhaps you don't know how I really feel about baking.... I'd much rather dig holes in the garden or do laundry all day, or clean the bathrooms, or be abducted for the day by green slimy aliens. Regardless, I carefully made four dozen scones for the Garden Fair on Saturday morning.

The previous night, my kids had helped me measure precisely, like scientists in the lab, sift and prepare everything for the pre-dawn experiment scheduled for the next day. At 6 am on Saturday, I chopped, mixed, dropped, and baked, timing the experiment to the second. As I took the first scones out of the oven, I thought to myself, "not bad for a gardener. Good thing I remembered to wash by hands because these might even be good enough for the St. Philip's Garden Fair." They looked delicious and I had actually baked them myself! Having used the best unsalted butter, heavy cream, and a recipe without self-rising flour, they were rich, sweet, and not like those store bought puffy ones you can find in nearly any grocery store.

I arrived at church with my four dozen scones and proudly brought them to the kitchen. With care, I started to unwrap them. Then, I began to take notice of the others in the wicker baskets. Suddenly, my once beautiful scones looked somewhat smaller, flatter, and lumpier than they had appeared at home. I began to feel especially uncomfortable that a half dozen were a little too brown on the bottom. I put several in one of the baskets with the other 400 or so other volunteers had made. Feeling a bit defeated, I placed my container behind everyone else's, under a smaller basket filled with more scones.

By noon, the kitchen and dining room were noisy, and the atmosphere was electric with the excitement of trying to get the soup ramekins filled quickly enough and the food to the tables. I began to forget about the not-so-perfect scones. With the hard work at the stove and in the dining room, my own baking challenges became a distant and inconsequential thought -- that is until I unloaded a tray of dishes and found a ramekin filled with half of one of my scones.  I sighed, chucked the remains into the bin, and got on with it.

At the end of the luncheon, we ladies who had been serving and washing dishes all afternoon had a chance to sample the fare: delicious sausage rolls, salad, crackers, and tea. From the basket remaining scones, I chose two

God Is Good, Story II: The Baker’s Apprentice

large, perfectly triangular, exquisitely baked scones, one with cranberries and one with currents. To these I added delicious clotted cream and strawberry jam. A gorgeous Saturday afternoon with tea and scones and cheerful company, who could ask for anything more?

After cleaning up, I gathered my tea cups and tea pots, and napkins. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my box, and it was still unopened. Determined not to suffer the indignity of watching someone wince at my baked goods, I took the lot home. When I arrived, I slid it in the freezer. "Yet another baking disaster," I thought. "It's really not my thing anyway. I'm much better at cooking, or well, doing anything else, and as a matter of fact, and I'd better get dinner going."  At the dinner table that night, I did not go into the details of my wounded over-blown pride, but focused on the delightful mayhem in the kitchen and the happy comments from the pleased customers.

Sunday morning after church a large basket sat on the table in the Parish Hall with several dozen scones remaining from the luncheon. I delicately loaded another fluffy, perfectly triangular, and exquisitely baked scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam. One of my children came along sniffing the landscape of the table, and pilfering the contents of the basket. "Hey, Mamma, I found one of your scones in here. I can tell because they are flatter than the others.  Can you help me find a few more?" We plucked out three more and they were consumed one after another in rapid succession.

When we arrived home the hungry child pleaded, "Mamma, did you have to give all your scones away? When do you think you'll have time to make me some more just like those? The other ones at church were too fluffy. Yours were different; they were better, tastier."

I pulled out the box from the freezer and asked, "How many would you like?"

"Can you warm up five, no, six? I'll eat four now and save two for breakfast tomorrow."

I gave that kid a huge hug. It was the nicest thing anyone could have said to a "perfectly" inadequate baker on Mother's Day.

I remembered then, "God is good."

             Signed, The Baker's Apprentice