Love Not Judgement

As I approach this the first Sunday of 2015

I have been pondering the words of C. S. Lewis

and how they apply in my Christian Life.

For me it is Christ's unconditional love for all of creation

that is the sun I know will rise each day.

And if this same unconditional love is the lens through which

I see everything else ...

Love not judgement is what I will see in the world around me!

Now the question I need to ask is how do my (grand)children see me.

If I am living out the words of C.S. Lewis

they will see unconditional love.

This will be my goal for 2015.

Grandma Snyder

©2013-2015 twosnydergirls

Roasted Winter Vegetables

Foodie Friday

I love when the temperature drops and as a family we gather around the kitchen table with a fire in the fireplace because it is time for my favourite dishes and roasted vegetables is top on my list.  Today we are featuring a three veg medley of carrots, brussel sprouts and parsnips.

You can eat them hot on steamed kale, rice or quinoa as just examples and I often take them to work to eat cold on salad mix.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups chopped carrots, brussel sprouts and parsnip
• 3 tablespoons melted coconut oil
• 3 tablespoons balsamic vinaigrette
• 2 tablespoons maple syrup

Directions:

1. Chop your vegetables and place on a greased baking sheet
2. Drizzle the coconut oil and balsamic vinaigrette over the vegetables
3. Place in 450 ° F oven until your vegetables are done to your liking turn the vegetables after 10 minutes  
4. Heat the maple syrup to thin it
5. Plate your vegetables and drizzle the maple syrup over them
6. Serve

From our table to yours

Grandma Snyder

©2013-2015 twosnydergirls 

Knitting the Sky 2014

Happy New Year !

With the end of 2014 comes the completion of my Knit the Sky Scarf 

I have enjoyed this adventure with you so much so that I am going to knit the sky in 2015, not a scarf I think I will knit a throw.  I am going to knit a scarf though this time it will be the highest temperature each day in 2015.  This year long knitting project is the brain child of 

and I encourage you to visit their site for even more knitting ideas, just click on their logo.

Through out this monthly series  I have included pieces of Percy Shelly's poem The Cloud here it is in the entirety. 

The Cloud

BY PERCY SHELLEY   

 I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 

         From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
         In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
         The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
         As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
         And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
         And laugh as I pass in thunder.
   I sift the snow on the mountains below,
         And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
         While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,
         Lightning my pilot sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
         It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
         This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move
         In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
         Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
         The Spirit he loves remains;
And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,
         Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
   The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
         And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
         When the morning star shines dead;
As on the jag of a mountain crag,
         Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
An eagle alit one moment may sit
         In the light of its golden wings.
And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
         Its ardours of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall
         From the depth of Heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,
         As still as a brooding dove.
   That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,
         Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,
         By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
         Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
         The stars peep behind her and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
         Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
         Till calm the rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
         Are each paved with the moon and these.
   I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,
         And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,
         When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
         Over a torrent sea,
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,
         The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march
         With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,
         Is the million-coloured bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,
         While the moist Earth was laughing below.
   I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
         And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
         I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
         The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
         Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
         And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
         I arise and unbuild it again.

Grandma Snyder

©2013-2015 twosnydergirls

Crabs on the Beach

Wordless Wednesday

Grandma Snyder

©2013-2014 twosnydergirls