What the Biscuit?: Tribute and Tidings

For any of you who read my blog at one time, you might notice that I have changed the name from “Observations of an Acorn” to “Our Daily Biscuit.” You might also notice that I haven’t been much of a writer in the past couple of years. I’ve always felt called to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard- but that sounds much less poetic). Writing is something I do when I am completely broken and empty, when I am overflowing to bursting, or when I’m trying to process anger and stress. I’m trying to take up that old habit again- mostly because I’m experiencing all of those emotions in a constant cycle these days. They are extreme and they are consuming and they are kind of beautiful in a terrible way. Regardless, I feel like I am undergoing a shift in who I am.

Because of that shift, I feel compelled to follow the call to write in whatever way I can. I don’t expect that anyone will hang on my every word, but I am starting in faith that something I have to say might impact even one person. So…what’s up with the biscuit part? I’m not starting a baking blog. I’m possibly the world’s worst baker. As in- I either churn out mush or bricks with no real in-between. This blog is about faith, family, and the desire to leave a legacy like the great one that has been left to me.

 

On November 25, 2017 my wonderful Daddy died. As my uncle put it, it was more like Enoch in the Bible- “he walked faithfully with God and then he was no more…” (Genesis 5:24) Noel Turner was my window into the Fatherhood of God. I will be sure to say that my dad was definitely human. He was imperfect and made mistakes like anyone. He could be a little too blunt, a little too sensitive, and sometimes had a touch of impetuosity. What I mean when I say that he was the most Christ-like man I’ve ever known is not that he was perfect, but that he truly loved. He listened to God and did what He wanted him to do. He knew the Word inside and out because he wrapped himself in it every day. He was gentle, thoughtful, quiet, and patient almost always- but forceful when the situation called for it.

I still haven’t explained the biscuit part. Among the other effusive praises I can lavish on his memory, Noel Turner was an accomplished baker of the best biscuits I have ever (and probably will ever) have. This is a skill he used often. Making breakfast for his family was one of the great joys of his life and even as I grew older and moved away, there was always this unspoken invite that if I’d come by, I’d be fed. That was another aspect of his Christlikeness. “Ask, and you will receive. Search, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened for you. Everyone who asks will receive…If your child asks you for bread, would any of you give him a stone?” (Matthew 7:7-9) Daddy gave us bread (predominately biscuits) to eat whenever we asked- and often when we didn’t ask.

 

In the same way he fed our bodies, Daddy cared about feeding our souls. Jesus called Himself the bread of life (John 6:35). He didn’t specify what kind of bread for this example. For me, it was biscuits: carefully mixed, dutifully kneaded, patiently awaited- and delivered to the table with loving wisdom (and a sizeable portion of gravy…but I don’t know how to make a flowery metaphor out of that one). Daddy read the Bible through every year, meditating on it and often using the “Our Daily Bread” devotional series. It seemed only right that the mission forming in my mind encompass the classic and the unique- just like he did.

 

My dad was and is my hero. My middle name, Noelle, was after him- and I find it absolutely true that names can be prophetic to the nature of the person on whom they’re bestowed. I have thus far not pulled it off in its entirety, but I have always wanted to be like him. I look like him. I’m kind of an oddball amongst my siblings like he was. I am sensitive in the way that he was sensitive. I cook like him (where recipes, like the pirate code, are more like guidelines than actual rules). There is a likeness that I feel blessed to carry, but there are missing pieces I want to better enact. I’m not trying to be him. I’m a distinct person with my own gifts and talents. However, I do believe that you can pick up the mantle of someone before you.

 

One of the most famous biblical prophets was Elijah. He was called to great things. He performed miracles, gave insight into the future of Israel, and went head to head with evil and corrupt leaders of the day. He was a biblical badass. Is that okay to say? Well, I gotta be authentic. Who I am is kind of a little bit irreverent sometimes. Sorry Daddy. Sorry Jesus. Anywho- Elijah’s exit was as cool as his life…he went up into the whirlwind. Years earlier, he had thrown his mantle upon the shoulders of a man named Elisha, spiritually adopting him. He essentially mentored Elisha, entrusting the disciple with his prophetic legacy. Before that crazy whirlwind takes his spiritual father away, Elisha asks to “inherit a double portion” of Elijah’s spirit (the story can be found in 2 Kings 2). He doesn’t ask to be Elijah. He asks to carry the torch in such a way that it burns even brighter.

 

In a way that’s what I’m doing. My dad touched hundreds of lives during the course of his ministry. I’m not trying to rival that (and am not sure I could), but I am trying to exhibit a measure of faithfulness that allows God to use me like he used Daddy. Part of that is getting into the Word. Part of that is getting outside of my selfishness to help others. Part of it is remembering to praise even when things seem ugly and awful and I’d rather complain. And part of it is sharing who I was made to be with a world who can use it. This entry is just an introduction. I’m stepping out in faith on a lot of things- including starting school next week- so I’m not sure how often these entries will be released. But I do know I’m learning some things and I’m eager to share them with the people I love!