I'm Not Crazy, I'm Spiritual

A few blogs ago, I wrote about a book called "Saint's Everlasting Rest," by Richard Baxter. He talks a lot about the discipline of meditation. I was really challenged by everything he wrote.

Another thing he encourages is to be disciplined in soliloquy. I nodded in agreement, but wasn't sure what that word meant. I remember learning that word while studying Shakespeare in high school, but the exact definition escaped me. So today I looked it up. Here's the definition I found on the internet:

1.	an utterance or discourse by a person who is talking to himself or herself or is disregardful of or oblivious to any hearers present.

2.	the act of talking while or as if alone.

I do this all the time! (So much so that I once called my sister by my name)

So basically, all I have to do is turn my already constant soliloquy into fruitful soliloquy. Like preaching sermons to myself.

Really, though, this is a hugely encouraging thing for me. I have read a lot about Christian meditation and prayer and fasting and all the other spiritual disciplines, but I don't think I've ever come across soliloquy as a spiritual discipline before. (maybe I'm reading the wrong books) But it really does make a lot of sense to spend time reminding yourself of what you know about God and yourself and eternity. It's a good idea to preach a sermon to yourself now and then.

So, Self, let's get to it!

Five Hours from Freedom to Freezer

Some of you will think I'm really cool after reading this post. Others will think I'm a loser for thinking making soup from scratch is special. Especially after 2 1/2 years in a developing nation.

I've been wanting to try my hand at chicken soup from scratch since I first arrived over here. I just never got up the gumption to start the project. Part of the problem is that my kitchen lacks adequate counter space. Another problem is that the counters in my kitchen are really low - like up to the middle of my upper leg - and it kills my back to work too long on anything in there.

But today I finally got started on this. I went down to the vegetable market and bought some veggies - carrots, tomatoes, garlic, onion, cilantro - and the main ingredient, fresh chicken. I was surprised how hard it was to get the chicken. I grew up on a farm, I know a little about the realities of birth and death. But it was hard for me to walk into the chicken area of the market and sentence an innocent hen to death.

When I was little, I used to go talk to my grandmother's chickens when I was sad.
I thought they cared. Then one day, one of my tears fell to the ground
and they all rushed toward it as if it were food.
That's when I realized they didn't care. They just wanted a snack.

For $5 I got a 4 pound chicken, which the lady kindly killed, bled, de-feathered, and beheaded for me. (I got teased a lot about the beheading. "The head's the best part! Don't waste it!" They really like the heads, and since there's only one per chicken, it's kind of a delicacy - usually a treat for the kids.) I took it home, hanging by its feet in a plastic bag to catch what was left of the blood.

I never thought I'd draw so much attention carrying a dead chicken home. I see people carrying dead and live chickens all the time. But apparently if a foreigner does it, it's an event worth calling everyone's attention to. The flirtatious gate-guard at my apartment complex exclaimed, "You killed a chicken! Are you going to invite me to dinner?"

If it looks creepy with the feet attached,
imagine it with its head on...

Anyway, I got it home. The cat was very curious about the stench of death I brought into our home. I removed the skin, cut the feet and wings off, and put feet, wings, and body into a pot. I added the veggies and tomatoes, filled the pot with water, and let it all boil for an hour or so. (I read that having all this stuff together gets a lot of flavor and nutrients into the water.)

It's really alarming to see how small chicken breast is on a real chicken...
I can't even begin to guess how unhealthy those two-pound
chicken breasts on the shelves of American supermarkets are.

I removed the meat from the skeleton and skimmed the fat (which there was hardly any of) from the broth. After chopping the meat up, I divided all the broth and meat into 3 freezer bags. (I did taste the broth, and it was ridiculously good. I didn't expect it to come out this good) Now, on those days when I have no idea what to eat, and am tired of instant noodles or fried potatoes, I can grab this frozen broth, throw in some veggies, and have myself some chicken soup.