January Saturdays

There is something about this time of year that compels me to spend hours cooking. I know I am not alone in this. Even the lady at the checkout counter said that she loves to bake at this time of year as she placed the flour, sugar, chocolate, and nuts in my shopping bag. And Mrs. Sundberg's post this week nearly echoed my past weekend. I made three soups for the week and a pan of dinner rolls...

This weekend, I have a reason to bake. It's my turn to bring treats for coffee hour after church. Two pans of brownies made last night - use the recipe on the Baker's Unsweetened Chocolate box. Yes, making them from scratch is worth the extra step. On the baking roster today will be chewy date nut bars and chocolate chip cookies. All the while, soup will be going in the crock pot and on the stove. Tomato, lentil and barley, a split pea, and I'm going to see what I can do with broccoli...

This week, my home-body self was affirmed when it was revealed to me that I am in fact a Cancer and not a Leo. I have never really followed astrology - I know my sign and the traits of my sign, but it never really fit me - ambition, the spotlight, devouring my enemy... anyone who knows me knows that is not me. 

But, I do have a highly developed sense of intuition. I am an emotional and sensitive person. I am trusting, to a fault. I seek the good and positive in every situation. I am a homebody and love to spend time in the kitchen. I knit more than half of the gifts I gave at Christmas this year...As I read the traits of Cancer, I was gobsmacked how they fit me so much better than a Leo ever did. That has been a fun surprise of the week.

Time to put on the coffee, to pull out Grandma Pearl's measuring spoons and get the oven started. Stay warm today. 

A New Year's Toast

The view from the porch today is a cold one... A cold front has passed through during the night with gusty winds that has blown away the fog that has blanketed us for several days. The kids and I enjoyed a quiet New Year's Eve. Friday night is pizza night at our house and instead of the usual 4 for $10 kind that is often is, I had time to make homemade pizza. I tried a new recipe from the good ol' BHG standard cookbook, circa 1982. Wonderful crust, probably my best ever. 

We toasted each other with stemmed wine glasses, yes the good crystal, filled with 7up and cranberry juice. 

"Here's hoping that all the yucky stuff from last year stays there!" Emily, age 9. 

Well said, my little lovey. 

Is there a time to take Christ OUT of Christmas?

I had a great time reading to 2nd graders today at one of our local elementary schools. A group of us from work volunteered to read to students after lunch. We chose our books from a pile in the library, pre-selected by the school. I grabbed a book that looked fun and was written by Mem Fox. I love Mem Fox and this was a new one to me. Any kids' book that has 'wombat' in the title is for me. 

I wished I had flipped through the book before I made my choice, however. 

Dear little wombat was now old enough to have a part in the nativity play. He was either too big, too tall, too small, or too sleepy to be the Archangel Gabriel, Mary, Joseph, a Wise Man, or the innkeeper. He was finally chosen to be the baby Jesus. All's well that ends well.

I felt very uneasy reading this story to a group of school children in their classroom. I know, I am overly sensitive to this. There were several different ways of seeing this story. All the Christian children who know the story of the birth of Jesus could relate. All the children who may not be Christian may have felt like no one ever comes to read books for their religious holidays.  And the one little boy in the front who asked, "Who is Joseph?" completely confirmed for me that in school, it's okay for it to be a completely secular holiday celebration. 

I know this seems very strange to say, but there are times when I'd like to take Christ OUT of Christmas.  The birth of Jesus has nothing to do with sales at the malls, buying someone a Lexus, or a fabulous chunk of jewelry - exhilarating as it may be. It has nothing to do with cookies, bows, cards, drinks parties, and the like. It really has nothing to do with Santa Claus, but you can kind of see how we learn to pray in our Dear God/Santa...please give me everything that I want sort of way..

Until August of this year, I spent 16 months in a paid staff role as a Christian Education coordinator for my local church. I love sharing the wonderful stories of the bible, telling of the amazing people who have shaped our faith, the lessons to be learned from all this great history and how God still speaks to us today. Let's just say I was out of my comfort zone in a public school with children, save two whom I have taught in Sunday School, whom I did not know if they a) celebrated the real story of Christmas, b) celebrated a completely secular Christmas, c) observed other faith traditions, or d) did not celebrate Christmas at all. 

Yes, I know that I was the only one in the room who was uncomfortable. I'm grateful for the nudge of the Spirit who let me know that making assumptions is never the best way forward. I'll read again, with my Santa hat on, at school next year. But I'll be certain to pre-screen my selection first... 

Middle School

What an awkward age middle school is... I'm showing my age to call it "junior high." But in 7th and 8th grade, that's what it is to me, "junior high." It's that weird place in between. 

Tonight we attended the 7th and 8th grade winter concert at the high school. It won't be long before we'll be attending high school programs at the high school. In 7th grade, a girl in tights and Mary Janes will stand in front of a young woman in an adult dress, hose, and pumps. In 7th grade, boys will stand at five feet tall next to a young man of 5'8". And they are all the same age. 

The shyness of some of these young people is painful to watch. Each one of them feels as though everyone is looking directly at them and as a member of the audience, I almost want to look away. It doesn't seem so bad with the band, they have music to look at, they aren't looking out at us. But the choirs, their focus is their director in front of the ENTIRE auditorium filled with parents, siblings, and grandparents. They sing so well, but their shyness keeps them from singing. They were barely audible and I know 90 percent of the grandparents did not hear a single note they sang. Bless their hearts. 

I loved junior high, but I also know what a stressful and difficult time it is for those who are about to be teenagers. Is that how young I really was in 7th grade? I thought I was becoming so grown up. I wanted to be an adult at that age, but I was still just a girl in hose and pumps.

As I looked at them, I had this urge to tell my 12 year old self that it really did get better and life was different in ways I could never have imagined then. I wanted to tell my 12 year old self that I really wasn't as big as I thought I was at that age and I'd LOVE to be that size now. I'd tell myself that as we age, we care less and less about how other people think of us. We begin to own our sense of style. Those are things I want those beautiful, awkward, young women to know, and to borrow a phrase, to tell them that it does get better.  

Gratitude

What a weekend! 

On a total whim, my 12 year old son and I dressed like we were going to the grocery store in Fargo, ND, in the middle of January and went to the Iowa/Ohio State football game. 

Four layers of clothing, socks, and a men's parka. John and I both sported fur caps with ear flaps. We looked like we were from Nort DahKOtah, eh? 

This morning, my daughter asked how we got our tickets. I said that I bought them off a guy in the street. "You mean a hobo?"

"Uhm...no. Not a hobo. He made $20 off me."  Yes, I paid more than I should have because they can see me coming from a 100 yards away. But, it was worth every cent to make memories with my son.  

Oh yeah, and Iowa lost. So much for that.

Today, in the midst of all that grips my heart and mind and makes me so introspective, a dear friend came rolling back into my life. 

Just this spring, he had a massive stroke and we didn't even know if he was going to make it. He's now moved to Grinnell, and I haven't seen him since his stroke. The smiles, tears, and hugs from our little reunion were wonderful. 

I can tell you that the things that I am wrestling with in my life look very different this evening. 

A Not-Quite Thanksgiving Thanksgiving Dinner

Something inspired me on Friday afternoon at the grocery store and made me buy a bone-in turkey breast. One thing led to another and this afternoon, the kids and I had a mini-Thanksgiving dinner. I've never made Thanksgiving dinner by myself. I've brought side dishes and watched from the living room most of the time, but never solo. It went really well. The turkey was accompanied by roasted butternut squash and turnips with rosemary and thyme and sage dressing. Not bad. The boy got into the act when I told him he could make a pumpkin pie. Which he did and it was really, really good. Especially with real whipped cream we beat up with the mixer. 

Thanksgiving is getting so crowded out between Halloween and Christmas. It is becoming just a day of rest during the Christmas shopping season. I've already seen decorated Christmas trees in my neighborhood. It's November 14. I still have pumpkins on my front step. 

Think gratitude. Not just one day out of the year, but everyday. 

And When October Goes...

I am unabashedly in love. With the month of October. I love the colors, the crisp air, the coziness of being at home in the evenings as dusk comes early. 

Johnny Mercer wrote the song, "When October Goes," a lovely melancholy song of the change of seasons and a lost love. I adore the song for many reasons. It has started to take on a new meaning, however, when my children and I are enjoying the Halloween department at Target, to turn down the next aisle and greeted by Christmas cards... "100 Days of Holidays" is what Better Homes and Gardens calls the stretch from October to January 1. 

At first, I recoil against all the commercialism of it all. On second thought, the idea of something to celebrate when life seems to be more challenging than not, could be a good thing. I'm not advocating buying more stuff to be sure, but what if we could embrace an attitude of celebration in the face of challenge. Finding something everyday to celebrate, even if it does nothing else but put us in a better mood. We might find that 100 days of holidays could become 365 days of holidays, with some of those days just a little more special than the others.